


a pact in blood

by MaddieContrary



Category: Ella Enchanted (2004), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Polar (2019)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bodyguard AU, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Not Beta Read, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29040138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieContrary/pseuds/MaddieContrary
Summary: When Prince Char's parents passed away, his uncle had rushed to his side to provide comfort and some much-needed guidance. Much to Char's surprise, his uncle also brought along a strange man to become his bodyguard, claiming concern for Char's safety when it was revealed that Char's parents were poisoned.Char accepted Duncan as his bodyguard reluctantly, though he would be thankful for the man's presence in his life before long.UPDATE: Podfic available, thanks to the lovely metencephalon <333Click here to give it a listen!
Relationships: Prince Charmont (Ella Enchanted)/Duncan Vizla | Black Kaiser
Comments: 49
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fictionfuelled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionfuelled/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the ACOC server's viewing of Ella Enchanted prompted a hundred different AUs, but a prompt of Duncan/Char with Duncan as Char's bodyguard would not leave my head, especially when I saw Flyingsnail's art of it. 
> 
> So here you go, a fic that only me and one other person wanted, probably XD Enjoy!

When Char’s parents passed away, he joined the mourners as the kingdom lamented the loss of two kind rulers in one fell swoop. 

As the heir to the throne, Char was expected to put up a calm front while he went through the unenviable business of saying goodbye to his parents, especially when the whole kingdom was looking to him for hope and guidance. He thought it unfair at the time. He was sixteen-years-old, after all. Why couldn’t he shed tears while he was mourning his father and mother without anyone witnessing him falling apart? To the rest of the kingdom, they were good rulers, beloved by all. 

To Char, they were all that he had.

He knew he was being selfish. The kingdom’s subjects were mourning for themselves because their livelihood depended on good rulers. He shouldn’t begrudge them for that, especially as he would be Kyrria’s king before long. 

And yet.

It was hard to control matters of the heart sometimes. 

In the darkness of the night, Char let himself wept for the two people he had loved most. 

As Char was not yet eighteen, he was not yet a King in the true sense of the word. Due to the circumstances, Sir Edgar would act as the regent until Char came of age. When Edgar heard of the news of King Florian and Queen Daria’s deaths, he had flown to Char’s side at once. Edgar was Char’s remaining relative on his father’s side now, and would soon undoubtedly be Char’s close confidant. 

He’d only met with his uncle a few times in a year, but Edgar’s appearance at Kyrria was a soothing balm to him. Here was someone who would understand his pain, who would know how to temper the grief and anger that had overtaken him. He didn’t want these feelings, wanted to wish them away, but there they were when he lay alone at night in his bed.

“My dear boy,” Edgar said, grief heavy on his face as he stepped forward to envelop Char in a hug. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Charmont.”

Char breathed a sigh of relief as he let himself be held. His uncle wasn’t always the warmest man, but the embrace was a welcome reprieve for a few seconds. “Thank you, uncle.”

A heavy sigh went through Edgar before he pulled back, the man studying Char’s face intently. “Are you well?”

Char gave him a watery smile. “As well as I could ever be in these circumstances.”

Edgar sighed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. Had I known…”

“How could you have known?” Char asked morosely. “It was… an unexpected death. For both of them.”

To his horror, he found his eyes watering at the mere mention of it, and he tried to will the tears away. This was made easier when a sight over his uncle’s shoulder made him frown. 

The words blurted out of Char, unbidden, “Who are you?”

Char snapped his mouth shut when it became apparent that this was a rude question to ask someone he’d just met, especially in such a brusque manner. It was probably even ruder to practically gawk at the man standing several paces behind his uncle, but he couldn’t help it. The eyepatch over the older man’s left eye was making it harder for him to look away.

Edgar looked back to where the older man was standing, and he smiled when he turned back to Char. “Ah, spotted him have you?”

Hard not to, with the man skulking just behind Edgar, his aura somewhat menacing, made even more so by the steely gaze he fixed on Char. He wasn’t exactly frowning, but he wasn’t smiling. The whole thing just made Char frown.

“He’s your bodyguard, Char,” Edgar pressed on, laying a gentle hand on Char’s shoulder. “After what’s happened, I’ve brought him here to serve in Kyrria’s honor.” 

“What?” Char asked, brows furrowing at that. Not his most eloquent moment, perhaps. “I already have the Royal Guards. A whole flank of them, as it happens.” They were his parents’ bodyguards, before this. It was a disconcerting thought that he would need so many to protect him now. 

“Oh, I think this is a conversation that needs to be held at a more… private space,” Edgar said, his eyes shifting here and there as he took in their surroundings. “It’s not exactly the kind of thing I can tell you while we’re standing in the hallway entrance.”

Char frowned. “Of course. But wouldn’t you like to rest first? I’m sure you’ve had a long journey.”

“No, dear boy. This cannot wait. Shall we use the king’s study?”

“That’s my father’s—” Char swallowed down his words, throat bobbing furiously. “Very well.”

Char gave word to the closest servant next to him to make up the room for their arrival. 

Edgar frowned when the servant scurried away, turning his gaze to Char. “Do you only have servants to run your bidding?”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “Bidding” someone was never something he was good at, but he would have to learn to live with it sooner or later. Outwardly, he shrugged listlessly. “I have not convened with my father's— with the advisors just yet. It’s only been three days since my parents passed away, and I haven’t had the time to talk with them.”

The frown on Edgar’s face became more pronounced. “Well. I suppose you would need some guidance from someone close to you on how best to rule a kingdom.”

Char’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but he merely nodded in acknowledgment. “Come, uncle. We should talk at the study.”

Edgar nodded and followed him then. Char noted with some discomfort that the strange man with the eyepatch was shadowing them closely, silent to a fault.

When they arrived at the study, the servants had already prepared the space for them. A bottle of wine had been decanted on the large desk, and Edgar pored over the bottle label with a pleased smile on his face before he poured a drink for himself. He looked to Char in question, and Char shook his head to the offer of a drink. 

They sat down on the chairs in the middle of the study then, Edgar settling into the seat with a sip of his drink. The strange man stood at the edge of the room, close to the door of the study. Already conducting his duty as Char’s bodyguard, even if Char had never agreed to it. The King’s guards, meanwhile, were standing outside the room, as was their habit. 

“Excellent wine,” Edgar began, licking his lips while he looked around the study.

Char merely stared at him, though he did try to muster a smile. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded. 

“Come now, Char,” Edgar sighed. “I know how horrible it must feel to have lost your parents so soon, but you must rally on. You’re the heir, and being the heir comes with consequence, like it or not.”

Char nodded, though the words left a heavy weight in his belly. “I know that, of course. Mother and Father had been preparing me for ascension for the past few months, but…” His words trailed off, and he felt bereft.

Edgar tutted, taking another sip of the wine. “I know, my dear boy. You must be overwhelmed by everything. But rest assured, for I have come back to Kyrria to help you navigate through these waters.”

Char brightened a little at the thought of being less alone. “Truly?”

“Of course,” Edgar said with a kind smile. “I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you here to bear the burden alone. Let me lighten the load for you. I have intimate knowledge of how to run a country, of course. Shadowing Florian all those years ago had its uses.”

Char breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, uncle. I… I don’t know what to say.”

Edgar waved it away. “No need, Charmont. What are uncles for, hmm?”

Char smiled, humor returning to him slowly. At the very least he wouldn’t be alone throughout all this mess. It felt as if he had been thrown into the deep end without any warning, and he was still grasping in the dark while trying not to drown. Having Edgar here would help things, as his uncle could give him guidance on how to become a ruler. 

“Now,” Edgar said, leaning back in his chair. “What do you know of the Damocles?”

Char frowned at the sudden turn in the conversation. “Uh… nothing at all. I’ve never heard of it. What is it?”

“Hmm, I thought as much,” Edgar said, nodding sagely. “Well, Duncan here”—Edgar gestured to the man who had been standing silently at the door—“is a member of Damocles, which means he’s one of the very best bodyguards around. It’s a very private organization that has been serving other royal families, and their services do not come cheap. I know you have your King’s guard, but they’re not quite the same. Duncan would be your bodyguard, and he’s had quite the experience in serving three royal families previously. I’m sure he would be a great asset.”

“But why would I need a personal bodyguard?” Char asked, exasperated. “The King’s guard have been—” 

“Useless,” Edgar interrupted. “Where were they when my brother and your mother were killed inside this very castle?”

Char opened his mouth, closed it again. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t know what to answer.

“Precisely,” Edgar said, sighing. “I’m sorry Charmont. I don’t mean to disparage the Royal Guards, of course, lord knows they have their uses. But in this, I’m afraid they have failed you, and my poor brother.”

Char considered that. “Do you mean to say that Father and Mother were… murdered?”

Edgar frowned and he leaned forward to stare at Char. “You have no idea what happened to them, do you?”

“I—” Char sighed. “No one would tell me what happened.” 

His voice sounded small even to himself. Most of the nobles and advisors he’d spoken to had prevaricated or obfuscated things when he’d pressed them for details. No one wanted to tell him the cause of his parents’ death, and he had wondered why. The non-answers were enough to draw his suspicion, though there wasn’t much he could do when people refused to talk. 

“They were poisoned, Char,” Edgar said, keeping his voice low, his eyes boring intently into Char’s. “I do not know by who, but I’m guessing it was done by someone close to Florian. Possibly one of the nobles. Or even his advisors. Has any of them approached you for the last few days?”

Char frowned, trying to think back on the blur that was the last five days. “I… I remember some of them coming to meet me to offer their condolences and wanting to talk, but… I put it off because we were still in mourning.”

Edgar sighed. “Just as I suspected, then. One of them could have done it, and they would try to position themselves by your side in the hopes that you would be their puppet while they rule through you.”

Char listened in horror at his uncle’s explanation. It was something he knew could happen, but he didn’t think that his advisors of his father’s favored nobles would do such a thing. “But if they wanted to rule Kyrria, why didn’t they simply kill me?”

“Because then the succession would fall to me,” Edgar explained. “And they know I am not someone to be trifled with. They wouldn’t be able to control someone like me. A boy like you, though…” 

Char winced at the reminder that he was still just that: a boy trying to fill in his father’s crown. “I… are you certain? Were they really poisoned?”

“Charmont,” Edgar said, a pained smile on his face. “I have lost my dear brother. Why would I lie to you?”

The news that his parents had been poisoned stayed with Char long after he’d part ways with his uncle that evening. 

The last few hours had been a blur while Edgar had tried to impart his knowledge onto Char on what would happen next. Char had listened, numb with shock, and tried to absorb as much as he could. He was grateful that his uncle was there at least to help him with this whole ruling business. It hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind as he had been content to think that his parents would live forever.

Obviously, he was wrong.

Before he realized it, he was outside of his old chambers, numb and unseeing. He frowned when he noticed the familiar door. He should’ve made his way to his new chambers, the one that had been prepared in the stronghold of his parents’ tower. Habit had made him return here, undoubtedly, but he found himself going in regardless. 

Stepping inside his old chambers was like stepping back into time, even though he’d barely left the space a few days ago. His personal belongings had been transferred to the new tower, and everything else in the room had been returned to its previous state. There was no mattress for the sheets (none required where no one would sleep on it), the work desk by the window was empty of any notable items, and the remaining furniture was left threadbare. 

It was like opening a door to another dimension, for all the memories the room evoked in him. He remembered spending long hours at the chair by the fireplace and his work desk while he pored over books and maps, trying to cram in as much knowledge as he could to impress his mother. Mother loved to visit him in his room, and they would either sit at the fireplace or she would tuck him in before bed, long after he’d grown into a teenager. He hadn’t minded it at all. He had cherished every moment. 

Though his father didn’t occupy the space as much as his mother had, Char could still recall the times Father would come inside his chambers. This happened more often when there were some battles or other skirmishes with neighboring kingdoms, and Char remembered those times well. His father’s brows had been furrowed with worry as he tried to impart the importance of knowing the history, the geology, and the psychology of their kingdom and its allies and enemies, for the knowledge would serve Char well when he would eventually become a ruler. Char had listened and nodded in all the right places, though he had grown complacent at the thought that his father would always be there to guide him in all things.

Char’s throat bobbed with the memories, then, and before he knew it, a dry sob had escaped him while he lingered in the middle of the chambers. Shaken at the sudden reaction, Char hastily used his sleeves to wipe the tears away, ashamed of himself. He would be a king in another two years, he shouldn’t be crying over such things.

“Your highness.” 

Char stiffened at the gruff voice, eyes widening as he turned to regard the man who’d spoken. He frowned when he realized that it was the bodyguard his uncle had saddled him with. Behind the hulking man, two of the men from the Royal’s guard were sending surreptitious glances to Char, possibly trying to see if this interloper would be a threat to their charge.

He turned to fully look at the man, wiping away his remaining tears. “You’re… Duncan, was it?”

The man nodded. He was standing at attention, hovering at the doorway. The eye that Char could see was carefully trained on him. It was somewhat disconcerting to have that intense gaze turned on him, the man’s silent demeanor somewhat menacing. 

Char frowned. “I didn’t realize you’d followed me.” Either he’d been too preoccupied with his thoughts, or Duncan was very good at being a wallflower, a non-threatening presence. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Duncan murmured, head tilted lower and eyes downcast in apology. 

Char loosened somewhat at that. “So. You’re to be my silent shadow from now on?”

“If it pleases you.”

Char huffed, rolling his eyes. “As it is, it doesn’t please me at all. But it seems that my uncle has ideas that I might need more protection than the situation warrants.”

“His ideas have merits,” Duncan said, staring at Char once more. “After the passing of King Florian and Queen Daria, it’s understandable that he worries for your safety.”

Char let out a loud sigh, shrugging helplessly. “Well. Here I am, all safe in my chambers. Most guards wouldn’t presume to enter unless bade to, you know.”

“My apologies. I thought this was not your chamber.” Duncan threw a glance at the bare mattress, though his expression was schooled to reveal nothing.

Char could feel his face heating. “Well, yes. Um. I’m used to returning here for the past sixteen years. Just… trying to see if I’d left anything behind.”

It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it. 

Char stole another glance around the room before sighing. “Never mind. Now that we’re here, I suppose we could talk.”

Duncan’s mouth curled almost imperceptibly at that. Char thought it might have been a frown; if so, it would be the first expression he’d seen on the man.

“Talk?” Duncan echoed, looking as if he wasn’t used to talking.

Char spun around and moved to take a seat by the unlit fireplace, gesturing to the chair across him and waiting until Duncan had done the same. The man looked discomfited at the thought of a conversation, and Char almost smiled at it. Most soldiers he knew were a man of few words, and he didn’t doubt that Duncan was born from the same mold. 

“I just want to know who you are, since you’ll be working directly under me after all,” Char said, leaning back into the chair. “For example, what’s your full name?”

“Just Duncan.”

Char frowned. “Really? No last name?”

“None that I have used for many years. The men and women in Damocles need no last name.”

“There are women bodyguards?” Char asked, surprised.

Duncan cracked his first smile. “Women are as capable as men at guarding their charges and inciting pain when needed.”

“Hmm. I don’t doubt that. It’s just… I haven’t met one before.” Char tilted his head then, considering. “Where are you from, Duncan?”

“Nowhere.”

Char huffed. He’d expected that. “Men from Damocles don’t need a birthplace?” 

“Something to that effect, yes.” 

Humming, Char wondered just what sort of organization Damocles was. Why was it necessary to have their men secretly sequestered away, for them to have no identity beyond their first name? It sounded funny, even to an inexperienced youth like Char. 

“What happened to your eye?” Char asked at last, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“Injured in the line of duty.”

“I gathered as much. Who were you guarding at the time?”

“I cannot disclose the identities of my previous employees, your highness. My apologies.”

Char frowned. “Fine. But… did they survive the attack that caused your injury?”

He’s not sure if he was imagining things, but Duncan’s demeanor seemed to grow even more rigid at that question, though outwardly there wasn’t any noticeable change in his expression. For a moment, Char thought Duncan looked… Intrigued? Impressed? Annoyed? Or maybe he was wishing death upon Char? It was hard to tell. 

“We survived our attackers,” Duncan settled on at last.

Satisfied, Char nodded. “So you’re competent, at least. Good to know.”

“Did you think otherwise?”

“I don’t know what to think. My parents just passed away three days ago, and I’ve been running around to sort everything out while no one wants to tell me what happened to them. In addition to that, Uncle Edgar came back and dropped you off on me without warning and told me that someone poisoned my parents and I should now be very worried for my own life and that’s why you’re here. Would _you_ be comforted by all these things if it happened to you?”

“...It would not.”

“Yes. So pardon me if I’m rather rude at times.”

“You are very outspoken for a sixteen-year-old.”

Char snorted. “Trust me, I wasn’t always this outspoken. The last three days had been… exhausting. But I had to step up or be talked over by everyone.”

“I’m sorry if I angered you with my words.”

“Never mind,” Char sighed. “We’re all trying to make the best of our circumstances.”

“It’s an unfair burden to fall on someone so young,” Duncan observed, his voice betraying no emotion.

Char shrugged uncomfortably, not knowing what to answer to that. He was somewhat embarrassed that Duncan had seen him crying. He’d known the man for only a few hours and already he’d seen Char at his weakest point. There was no use making excuses for it or trying to deflect, so he opted to say nothing.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, both of their gazes measured. Assessing. 

“So what’s your duty? Who do you answer to?” Char asked eventually. “What sort of organization is Damocles? Who do I contact if I want to return you?”

Duncan wasn’t affronted by the abrupt (and borderline rude) questions. If anything, he smiled. 

What a peculiar man.

“Though Damocles is technically my employer, we may operate outside of the organization itself, depending on the needs of our client,” Duncan replied, his words practiced. “We are kept secret for several reasons, one of it being that it gives us an element of surprise. Your Royal Guards are bound to the restrictions and customs of the lands, but we are not. We will do whatever is necessary to ensure our job is done.”

Duncan cracked another smile, looking amused. “I’m afraid there is no ‘returning’ me at this moment. I have been contracted by your uncle to stay by your side until such time he deemed it unnecessary.”

A non-answer if he ever heard of one. 

Well, fine. The man can keep his secrets for now. Char would just have to keep an eye on him.

“You’re not doing a good job at ‘being a secret’,” Char mumbled. “You’re very conspicuous.”

“On account of my eyepatch?”

“And your strange garbs.”

“Forgive me, this is how I’m accustomed to dressing.”

“Well, if you’re going to be by my side at all times, you should try to blend in. Nothing to be done with your eye, obviously, but at the very least you can change your clothes.”

“If it pleases you.”

Char snorted. “Very accommodating, thank you.” He pressed his lips together, considering the man before him. “Well. There’s not much else there is to it, is there? Welcome to Kyrria, Duncan. I hope you’ll conclude your business most satisfactorily. Make sure my uncle is getting his money’s worth, so to speak.”

A flash of another one of those enigmatic smiles, though the smile did not reach the man’s good eye. “Thank you, your highness.”

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. In between his grief still lingering in the background of his thoughts, Char was kept busy by his incoming duties. 

Char’s uncle soon became the buoy in the unexpected storm at sea. Edgar did not seem daunted by the task ahead of him, and he looked happy to return to Kyrria. 

Char was glad that Edgar was around, or else he doubted he would’ve survived the last month. Once the mourning period had passed, Char had been thrust to the forefront, Edgar at his side. His father’s advisors had deferred to Char in all matters, so much so that it had overwhelmed him. There were so many things to take in in so many days, and he was expected to know everything during the council meetings. It was a steep learning curve, and Char tried his best to live up to his subject’s expectations.

The nobles were beginning to trickle in one by one as well, asking for an audience. Like Edgar had insinuated, they came in a group or alone, offering their services to Char and ingratiating themselves in general. There wasn’t anything suspicious about any of the nobles Char had seen, but then again, perhaps he was still too young to know any better.

He knew most of them by now, having shadowed his father for several discussions and audiences while King Florian was still alive.

“It’s good practice,” King Florian had said once during one of the meetings, his tone mild.

“But this is the third one I’ve been to this week,” Char complained.

“When you are older, you’ll know why you have to undergo the things you do,” King Florian said. His father was always kind to him, thankfully, though he was also stern. There was no provoking him into speaking harsh words, which had made him one of the Kyrria’s most well-loved rulers. 

Char had only huffed back then, internally thinking that all this “practice” was a waste of his time.

He now knew it wasn’t. 

Edgar, perhaps sensing or seeing Char’s discomfort and overwhelmed schedules, pulled him aside into the royal study one evening. The two of them shared a drink — Edgar had winked playfully when he poured a glass for Char — and talked of innocuous things before Edgar finally broached the subject.

“Char, I couldn’t help but notice how tired you seem these days,” Edgar said, looking concerned. “Are you perhaps burdened by your duties?”

Char sighed and took a sip of the wine Edgar had offered him. He winced at the taste initially, and he took a slower sip to let his palate get used to the taste. It was… nice. Albeit a bit strange for his first time partaking in such offers.

“I am feeling a bit burdened yes,” Char admitted reluctantly. He didn’t want to show any weakness, much less in front of his uncle. It wasn’t a good trait for a future ruler, and he had been trying so hard to keep it together for the sake of the kingdom and his parents’ wishes. “But I think I’ll survive. After all, I have to do this for the rest of my life. Might as well get used to it now.”

Edgar tutted, tilting his head and making a show of scanning Char’s face. “You look peaky, dear boy. I think you’ve lost some weight as well. Don’t you think he looks a bit underfed, Duncan?”

Char startled at the question, and his gaze flitted to Duncan, the man’s silent presence blending in with the shadows at the door to the study. 

Of course, Duncan was never far behind from Char. But he had gotten so discrete and so good at his job that sometimes Char forgot he was there at all, only reminded of his presence when it was called to. Like right now.

Duncan stared at Char for two seconds before he trained his gaze ahead. “His highness does look somewhat unwell.”

“You see?” Edgar said, tutting again. “I must say I’m very concerned. I know you’re expected to be king in another year or so, but it shouldn’t take a toll on you so early on in your youth. Wouldn’t you rather have me help you with your burdens? I am the regent until you come of age, after all. Your advisors and the nobles need not deal with you _all_ the time. I will filter through them, and they will only need to see you when the matter is of the utmost importance to the good of Kyrria.”

Char frowned and digested that as he nursed his drink. The matters of the state were indeed something he had to look into as the future king, but he did have Edgar here to help matters as the Prince Regent. Perhaps he could do as his uncle advised; it would be wise to leave them in Edgar’s capable hands. And Edgar seemed very willing to do it too…

“I suppose…” Char cleared his throat. “I suppose there’s no harm in that.” He stared at his uncle while he spoke. “Would you be alright with this? I do not want to burden _you._ If it wasn’t for Father and Mother’s passing, you wouldn’t even have to do this.”

Edgar waved that away almost impatiently. “Think nothing of it, Charmont. Didn’t I already say that I’m back here to assist you in these matters? You’re young yet, and you have two years to discover and enjoy the remaining of your youth! You should be out there and having fun instead of being saddled with these trifling tales the nobles bring you. It would be an honor to serve you.”

“I’ll be seventeen in another few weeks, you know,” Char said, amused. “And you know you don’t serve under me. You’re my uncle.” 

“Hmm, well you are the king, or will be one sooner or later,” Edgar reminded him. There was a flash of something unnamable in his eyes, but it was gone within the next second. 

Char pressed his lips together, wondering at that. “Well. As long as you think you can handle it.”

“Of course, Charmont. Now, let’s toast to that. I hope you’ll get better sleep tonight.”

Char did end up having a good night’s rest for the first time in weeks that night. 

Perhaps he had been tired of all the happenings around him, more than he had thought. He woke up feeling refreshed for once and set out to find his uncle immediately after a hearty breakfast in his chambers. He found the man while he was busy conversing with one of his father's advisors _(your_ _advisor now,_ Char reminded himself), the two of them talking in hushed voices as they were headed somewhere.

“Uncle!” Char greeted the man, gratified to see his uncle answering with a fond smile.

“Well, you sound better already,” Edgar said, smiling at him approvingly.

“Yes, thanks to you.” Char turned to Marlowe, one of Father’s ( _your_ ) more trusted advisors. “Good morning, Marlowe.”

Marlowe bowed. “Your highness.”

“Marlowe and I were just talking about the taxes,” Edgar said, smiling at Char. “I shan’t bore you, I’m sure you have better things to do and plans for today. I’ll summarize it for you later when I’ve talked to the rest of the council.”

“Oh.” Char frowned. “Shouldn’t I be there? Taxes are one of the major things I should be aware of, isn’t it?”

“Well yes, but not at this level. Like I said, we’re still brainstorming things and looking at where we’ve gone wrong in the past few years. Once we have our findings, rest assured we will present it in a hearing to you before any Act is passed.”

“Well… if you’re sure…”

“I’m very sure, Charmont.” Edgar looked to somewhere beyond Char’s shoulders. “Duncan, why don’t you take Char here on a horseback ride? The weather looks splendid outside, I’m sure he could use the fresh air.”

“Of course, Sir Edgar.”

Char’s frown stayed on his face when Edgar and Marlowe bowed to him before they walked away, leaving him and Duncan alone. For some reason, that particular interaction had not gone the way Char preferred, though he couldn’t quite give voice to his complaint. Maybe he just didn’t appreciate being treated like a kid, even though he knew that wasn’t Edgar’s intention. Edgar only had Char’s best interest at heart, didn’t he?

“Your highness?”

Startled out of his reverie, Char turned to Duncan. “Yes?”

“Shall we go saddle up?” When there was no response forthcoming, Duncan smiled. “It does look like we’re having a good spell with the weather. It’d be a shame not to take advantage of it.”

Char sighed, looking down the hall where his uncle had disappeared to. “Sure. I suppose it looks like I’ve been dismissed. So why not?”

Char was beginning to think that there was some merit to Edgar’s suggestion when he and Duncan finally made it out of the castle grounds. 

As there had been so many things happening in the last month, he hadn’t gotten a lot of free time for himself, much less done anything for leisure. Gone were the days where he could simply ride out on his horse to gallivant around the forest in search of entertainment, or the days where he could sprint into town in search of something to occupy his time. It was always something he had looked forward to once upon a time when the responsibilities weren’t yet fully rested on his shoulders.

He took one of the routes to the town of Frell, cutting through the forests that he was by now familiar with. It _was_ a nice day out — the sun was out in full force, and the skies were as blue as they could be. They were mercifully riding under the shades of the trees, both of them riding silently, Char riding ahead and Duncan following closely behind. Char had opted to leave the King’s guards at the palace; had insisted on it. He needed a clear mind while he rode to town, though he had to compromise by bringing Duncan along.

He was still smarting from being excluded from the discussion with Edgar and Marlowe, though he didn’t know why it mattered. After all, he _was_ much too young to be involved in all those talks — Father had usually presided over those meetings while Char had listened and took notes. Besides, he was the one who gave his uncle permission to take over some of his extra duties, so why should it bother him when those duties were taken out of his hand?

Sighing, he shook himself out of his malaise and spurred his horse on, though he paused when he heard Duncan calling after him. He slowed Mustang down and waited for Duncan to catch up to him, turning to the man with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re not tired already, are you?” he teased. 

“Hardly. But now that we are somewhat farther than the castle, I’d like to speak to you.”

That got Char’s attention. There was something secretive about the way Duncan’s eyes shifted to make sure they were alone. Char wasn’t concerned for his safety; Kyrria was a peaceful kingdom, outside of the border skirmishes. He did, however, wonder for a split second if he could trust Duncan. 

The worry was shoved aside in the next second, Char reminding himself that his uncle had personally selected the man to protect him.

“Well alright, out with it then,” Char huffed. “We don’t have all day.” Well, technically they do, thanks to Edgar, but that would make it sound as if all Char would do all day was to prance around the forest. 

“Your highness, you must be careful,” Duncan said eventually, his expression serious. 

Char snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know. Have you heard of an assassination plan, then? Maybe someone seeking to poison me just as they had my parents?”

“It’s… more complicated than that.”

“Are you going to be cryptic all day?”

Duncan sighed, looking conflicted. “You should pay close attention to your uncle.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Char asked, disbelieving. 

“Your uncle is… seeking to usurp you.”

Char’s brows furrowed, and he searched Duncan’s expression for any telltale signs, anything that could expose if the man was lying to him or trying to tell a terrible joke. When he couldn’t find anything, he was left frustrated. 

“Uncle Edgar is here to help me,” Char insisted, speaking slowly. “He’s been nothing but helpful ever since he’s arrived.”

“Of course he is, he’s a clever man. He wouldn’t be able to do it seamlessly if anyone were to suspect him, so he’s biding his time.”

Char gave some thought to that. “Why would he do that? He’s known me for years, he wouldn’t hurt me. Besides, he’s never shown any interest in wanting to rule the country! He has his state to worry about.”

“Yes, but _you_ have a kingdom.” Duncan let out another sigh. “It’s convenient how fast he made it to your side once your parents passed away,” he pointed out. 

Char frowned. He’d been grateful for his uncle’s presence that he hadn’t questioned it. Edgar had been a fleeting fixture in his life, dropping by occasionally during certain celebrations before he inevitably disappeared to his abode again. It hadn’t occurred to him at all that Edgar would be vying for Char’s position; there had been no signs of it. 

He threw a suspicious look at Duncan, then. “Why should I trust _you?_ ” he asked bluntly. “I don’t know you and I doubt you know me. Out of the two of you, I’d be inclined to trust my uncle over some bodyguard _he_ had appointed to protect me. Perhaps you’re the one sowing distrust between me and my uncle so that you may… I don’t know, make way for someone else to take over the throne.”

Duncan nodded, looking as if he expected the question. “And who would I be working for?”

Char frowned, trying to think of any news that he’d heard from the neighboring kingdoms, Ayortha and Davalon, thus far. For the most part, Kyrria had had good relationships with her neighbors, and it was kept that way by forging alliances and making treaties that would put them at a disadvantage should any of them choose to break the treaties. When Florian and Daria had ruled Kyrria, the good relations between the kingdoms had been at an all-time high. It was hard to imagine that any of Ayortha or Davalon’s rules would seek to destabilize Kyrria, as it would prove detrimental to their survival in the long run.

Besides, he’d had some acquaintances from both Ayortha or Davalon. He knew the kings and queens and their heirs intimately, from the balls and meetings he’d frequented with his parents once upon a time. It was harder to imagine that these people he knew quite intimately would want to harm him.

Char eyed Duncan, considering. “Perhaps it’s not an enemy I know. Tell me of Damocles, Duncan.”

Duncan’s smile was quick and razor-sharp. “I see I’ve given you too little credit, your highness.”

“Are you going to tell me the truth, or are you going to deflect?” Char drawled, eyes narrowing with his suspicion. 

Duncan sighed, looking around. “Perhaps we could find a suitable location to talk? I’d rather we speak where there is more crowd and less chance to be overheard while people are too busy to talk of their own lives to listen to others.”

“I think my presence in town would be more conspicuous, unfortunately,” Char said, sighing. He eyed Duncan for another minute. The man likely had a concealed under his long jacket, but he didn’t give the impression of wanting to hurt Char, at least not at the moment. Perhaps it wouldn’t be in his best interest right now, not with Edgar still around to help Char.

He came to a decision then. “There’s a riverbank, not far from here. It’s one of my secret spots. It’s where I go if I needed some peace.”

Duncan nodded. “Lead the way, your highness.”

As promised, the spot Char led them to was devoid of any humans or creatures alike, save for a few birds flying overhead, trying to forage for sustenance in the middle of the day. The stream itself was calm and peaceful, and Char had immediately taken off his boots once he’d dismounted and tied Mustang’s reins to a tree trunk, the cool water sloshing against his calves as he waded in. 

Over the rush of the water, calm enough to wade through, there was perhaps less chance of being overheard by anyone who might be listening in. Char turned back to look at Duncan, who was watching him warily from the riverbank.

“The water is not that cold,” Char said mildly, guessing at Duncan’s thoughts. Char was standing only several feet away, taking care not to steer too deep into the currents.

Duncan gave him a brief smile. “It is not the waters I’m afraid of.”

Char hummed. “No, I suppose not. I guess you’re going to confess something like you’re scared for my life?”

“Are you always this flippant over talks of your potential demise?”

“There’s always going to be a threat over my life,” Char said simply, shrugging and kicking softly at the riverbed. “It’s what Father had always warned me about, and I’ve gotten used to it. It’s why the Royal Guard is always around.”

“And yet they are not here right now.”

Char shrugged again. “I didn’t want them intruding into my free time. I’m still not used to having a whole flank following me around. Besides, I was given to believe that _you_ were here to protect me, which was probably why Sir Stephan allowed me to go alone.”

“Sir Stephan is your knight?”

“Yes,” Char sighed. “Used to be my father’s, of course. But now everything and everyone falls under my responsibility.”

“It must be a daunting prospect.”

“I’ll get used to it.”

“It seems like such a heavy burden to be pushed onto a young man’s shoulder.”

Char huffed, turning to look at Duncan’s impassive face once more. “What do you want me to say? I was born to this, just like my father and mother. It doesn’t give me pleasure to wield this much power, but it’s just how it is. I’ve been trained all my life to undertake the responsibility eventually.” His jaw tightened. “Though I didn’t think that my training would be cut short so soon.”

Duncan only stared back, his expression grave. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

Char looked away, half-ashamed at his confession. It wasn’t his parents’ fault that they died; likely they didn’t appreciate being dead either.

“There’s no shame to be had if you feel overwhelmed by all this, Char,” Duncan said, making his voice heard above the sound of the water. “You’re only sixteen, after all.”

“I’ll be seventeen in a few more weeks,” Char reminded him with a sigh. 

“Then you are still sixteen at the moment.”

Char laughed, shaking his head. “What an astute observation. Are you going to tell me what Damocles really is now?”

“It is… an organization that priced itself by being in the shadows.”

“Hmm, I’d gathered as much,” Char replied. “I’ve tried looking for mentions of it in any texts and asked some of my confidants if they’ve heard of Damocles. Not surprised to find out that there’s not much mention of it. Any reason behind the secrecy, other than what you’ve supposedly confessed previously?”

Duncan sighed, his gaze probing the edges of the trees along the river as if it might house some spies or faceless assassins. “What you have been told of Damocles might not be the whole truth.”

“I’ve suspected as much,” Char replied dryly. He sluiced his feet through the water as he made his way back to the bank where Duncan was waiting. “When I asked you if your previous charge survived, your answer was… not really an answer.”

“I believe I told you that we survived our attackers.”

“Your phrasing was deliberately vague, then.” Char ambled over to one of the trees that provided the largest shade, leaning his back against the trunk. He looked towards Duncan, raising an eyebrow. “Care to sit while you tell me the whole truth of it?”

“I would prefer to stand if it’s alright with you.”

“Fine, just stand somewhere so I don’t have to crane my neck just to look at you.”

Duncan obliged, his body rigid with poise. “My previous charge survived their attackers.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ somewhere in there…”

“He did not survive me.”

Char blinked, watching the way Duncan’s expression remained placid at the abrupt confession. “You… you killed your charge?”

“I killed my mark,” Duncan replied, voice devoid of emotion. 

Char’s brows scrunched, partly in confusion and partly in alarm. “Damocles is a front for hired assassins, then.”

Duncan’s small nod gave Char some measure of relief. It was heartening, somehow, to find out that his instinctual suspicion of the older man was based on some sense or logic at the back of his mind. It was quite another thing to realize that Duncan could kill him just as easily if he made a run for it now.

So instead of letting his fear overtake his senses, Char maintained his position, sagging against the trunk instead of running for his life. “So you’re telling me that my uncle has hired you to kill me as a mark.”

Another small nod. Duncan looked at him with a mixture of surprise and worry, peering closely at Char’s face. “You’re acting very calm.”

The bark of disbelieving laughter left him in a rush of breath. “What else can I do in this situation? If you’re telling the truth, no doubt you’d be able to outrun me and kill me in the next few minutes. For all my defensive training, I wouldn’t be able to fight off a trained assassin. If I’m going to die here today, I’d rather hear the full truth of why somebody thought that I deserved to die, especially since he’s my uncle.”

He only realized that his eyes were wet with tears when a drop of it rolled down on his cheek, and he winced in mortification. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his arm, he sighed and stared out at the river instead. 

The realization that Duncan might be telling the truth and that his uncle had been aiming for the throne all along should have shattered him. But in truth, Char was still mourning the loss of his parents, his bereavement cut short by the kingdom’s needs and by his uncle’s arrival. Now that he knew the full truth of it, he was forced to confront the fact that his parents’ lives have been cut short by human greed.

The short and simple truth of it wrenched a sob out of his throat before he could stop it, and Char took that as an indication that his emotions would not be kept controlled anymore. Just like the river rushing over the falls, the tears spilled over his cheeks as he allowed the overwhelming surge of sadness to overtake him. 

Ashamed, Char buried his face against his knees, avoiding the older man’s stare. The quiet sobs gave way to a silent trickle of tears before long, and Char exhausted his capacity for sadness and longing for his parents’ touch and gentle guidance. This would be the only time he could show such weakness, and it didn’t matter that Duncan was here to witness it now. The man had been a silent shadow and a near-stranger when he’d witnessed it the first time, back in Char’s old chambers. It was a comfort to know that at least this man wouldn’t judge him for his momentary need to expunge his sorrow.

Duncan remained silent through it all, though Char felt his presence beside him before long. The man stood next to Char, and it dawned on him that Duncan was offering some measure of comfort in his convoluted way. 

It wasn’t until Char leaned back against the tree trunk, face red and nose running, that Duncan finally spoke.

“Are you alright?”

Char sighed, the sound almost defeated. “I am most assuredly not.”

“I’m sorry to be the cause of your grievance, then.”

Char stared at the rushing waters once more, letting the sounds of the waters, the rustling of the trees, and the calls of the birds around them overtake his senses for a moment. Centering himself. This spot had always been dear to him, a private oasis for when he needed solitude and space to be just Char instead of Prince Charmont, heir to Kyrria.

The reveal from Duncan had not sullied the place to Char, at least. If anything, it gave him clarity, and a way to move forward. It gave him purpose.

“You weren’t the cause of it,” Char said, breaking the silence between them. “My uncle is. I’m only sorry that I found out about this all too late.” Char turned to look up at Duncan, squinting at the man suspiciously. “If anything, I’m surprised that _you’re_ selling my uncle out. Does this mean you won’t be getting any money if you betray him? Or”—here Char frowned—“are you planning to extort a greater sum by offering not to kill me in exchange?”

Duncan shifted uncomfortably, though he didn’t avoid Char’s accusing gaze. “If there’s anything I can say in my defense, it’s that I do not kill children.”

Char gave a derisive snort. “I’m hardly a child.”

“You are sixteen.”

“I would soon be seventeen,” Char reminded him again, sniffing. “So does this mean you would have no compunction about killing me once I turn eighteen? You would be fulfilling your end of the bargain, then?”

Duncan was silent then, turning contemplative as he looked to the river as if it could give him some answers. 

Char stared at Duncan, trying to make out what the man could be thinking. Even though he knew he should be terrified of the man, knowing what he knew, Char felt comforted by the blunt truth. Better the devil you know, he supposed. At least if Duncan killed him once he’s turned eighteen, he would know it was coming. 

An odd thing to take comfort in, but it was the only thing that Char was sure of at the moment.

It took several minutes for Duncan to answer, his voice hushed. “I am a simple man, your highness. My… bond with Damocles is coming to an end as soon as the last of my mark is taken care of.”

“So I’m your last mark?”

“Yes. I didn’t know at the time the specificity of your situation—”

“And of my age.”

“—and of your age.” Duncan sighed. “Perhaps in my hastiness to expedite my retirement, I was careless enough not to ask for details. I only know that I would be free to enjoy my life as I see fit once all of this was done and over with.”

Char laughed bitterly, rising from where he was seated. He stretched his joints and sighed heavily, eyes raised to the sky above them. A bird flew through the horizon as he watched, and his shoulders sagged with the reminder that they were bound to their circumstances and position though both of them longed to be free.

They stood side by side for another long moment before Char turned towards Duncan, contemplating their fates.

“So here we are, I suppose,” Char said. “You want the freedom to do as you like, while I would love the freedom to run away from all this mess.”

Duncan looked saddened at that. “I am sorry. It is a heavy burden for someone so young to take.”

“Well, that’s our lot in life,” Char said firmly. “What I want to know is that what do you intend to do with this revelation?”

Duncan considered him then, his gaze taking in Char’s defiant expression and posture. “That is entirely up to you, your highness.”

“Hmm. An eye for an eye then?” Char winced when he realized how that sounded. “Sorry, it was the first expression that came to mind.”

Duncan let out a huff of laughter; it was perhaps the first genuine expression Char had seen on the older man. The mustache was rather charming on him, he thought idly. It probably wouldn’t suit someone like Char, but he admired it anyway.

“I do have one good remaining eye to offer,” Duncan said, his smile still evident on his lips. 

“Right.” Char returned the smile tentatively. “So what I need from you is a promise that you won’t kill me until such time I can claim what’s mine — be that the throne or my freedom — and in return, I will keep your secret until then. Does my uncle require that you kill me soon?”

“He hasn’t specified,” Duncan replied. “Though I think he would be very careful in his planning. He would arouse suspicion if you were to suddenly be killed mere months after your parents have died, leaving him the sole remaining heir to the kingdom.”

“So we still have time,” Char mused. “Alright. I’m not too sure what my plans are right now, but I do intend to pay attention to what my uncle is doing so that I may divine what his plans are. Would you tell me if he’s asked you to… take care of me?”

“Of course.”

Char smiled. “Thank you. And if I survive this ordeal, then perhaps I may see to it that you are rewarded the freedom you so crave.”

“And how would you do that, your highness?” 

“I’ll be honest, I haven’t the faintest idea right now,” Char said, huffing. “Though we have time to figure it out, don’t we?”

Duncan tilted his head in agreement. “In any case, I do not want to kill you.”

“Right now, you mean,” Char said with a self-deprecating smile. “Well, it doesn’t matter. As long as my uncle still needs me alive, it will give us time to figure this out. You’re going to help me, aren’t you?”

Duncan stirred and extended a hand out, smiling at the hesitant way Char took it for a handshake. “On my honor, I will protect you, your highness.”

“Good.” Char’s mouth set in a grim line. “It looks like the two of us have a lot to do in the coming months, then.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I have no idea how many chapters this will turn out to be, but I do have a vague idea of where it's going, so... 3 chapters at most? Probably. I promise nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Char watched Edgar closely in the ensuing weeks. 

It was odd to be going on a suspicion that was planted by someone he barely knew. Perhaps if Edgar hadn’t offered to take up the majority of his duties with such alacrity, Char would have remained oblivious to his uncle’s little machinations. As it was, Edgar sending Char off to “play outside” as if he were a mere child while Edgar went into the council meetings with his advisors made him uneasy in a way he couldn’t pinpoint.

Well, it was easier now to recognize why those feelings had arisen as they did that day.

Throughout the next few weeks, Char kept close to Edgar’s side after he’d given the excuse that he’d like to learn the ropes from someone as capable as Edgar. The unsavory duplicity was necessary, but the veiled compliment was very much welcomed to Edgar, who beamed at the request and ushered Char to his side to shadow him. Char wouldn’t speak, though he would listen, and he gave all the appearance of being attentive though disinterested at the meetings and hearings with his people. 

In short, Edgar kept Char by his side like he would a dog.

And well, that smarted a little bit, too. But Char weathered through the indignant treatments and bade his time. It wouldn’t do for him to show his intention so clearly while he was still at a loss at what to do. So he played up the clueless child persona and remained docile while Edgar steered his advisors, his nobles, and his people every which way.

To Edgar’s credit, he was very smart with his move. Though he didn’t explicitly exclude Char from the proceedings, it was clear that he was very much the man in charge. In turn, Char’s advisors and nobles looked to him for any important matters and only acknowledged Char enough to not cause offense. These people — people whom Char had once trusted — didn’t openly sneer at him, but he could sense their pitying looks nonetheless when they thought he wasn’t looking. Perhaps they thought that it was only right that a poor, naive child like him should cede control to someone who was much more capable like Edgar, and so they threw their lots in with Char’s uncle happily. 

The small matters, such as the running and caring of the castle’s household and amenities — the libraries, the stables, the kitchen, the apothecary, and the likes — were summarily relegated to Char. Small things that would have no hold over the rest of the kingdom’s rules, or so Edgar seemed to think. 

“I’m sure these things will keep you busy,” Edgar chirped, perhaps seeing the slight disbelief on Char’s face. “It’s important to know how to run a castle, you know. Even running my estate back in Phenia proved to be a task worthy of a king. Poor management of the household could spell ruins for an estate, you know. When you know how to run a massive stronghold such as this, you’ll know you’re ready for the next step.”

Of course, Edgar was smart enough not to let Char look too closely into the accounts of such management. He would receive only enough information to “aid him in his task”. 

“So… I should learn to do all these before I’m ready to be king?” Char asked, careful to keep his tone light and tentative. Looking for guidance from his uncle. He did relish the dark expression that came over Edgar’s face at the reminder that Char would be king before long, there and gone again in a second.

Edgar smiled, giving the appearance of a kindly uncle who was mentoring his hapless nephew. “Of course. Let me know if you have any trouble.”

On days like these, when Edgar had been more patronizing than most, Char would unload his tirade to Duncan in the privacy of the King’s study in his tower. For all of Edgar’s manipulations, there was one thing that Char wouldn’t allow; Edgar would never step foot again inside this part of the castle, not if Char could help it. 

“He’s basically shoving all the menial tasks he couldn’t be bothered to look at to me,” Char fumed, pacing the study in an agitated manner. “Not that I mind these things, but he’s treating me like he would a mere child.”

Duncan was standing against the wall at the entrance of the study, as though determined to blend in with his surroundings if he could. “You are a child.”

“May I remind you that I’m now technically seventeen?” Char said, rolling his eyes. “In case you missed the banquet Edgar threw in my honor.”

“It was a rather ostentatious one,” Duncan said mildly from the shadows.

Char snorted and stopped his pacing, raising his eyebrow at Duncan. “Really? What gave it away? Was it the hall filled with all the advisors and nobles supposedly celebrating the occasion? Or maybe it was the two-tiered cake and the entertainment my uncle had called in later?” 

“It was the sight of you being serenaded and propositioned by all the nobles’ daughters by the end of the night, personally,” Duncan replied. Though the words delivered were devoid of emotion, there was an almost imperceptible movement of his mustache that led Char to think that Duncan thought it was all amusing.

Char narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you think this is all funny, don’t you?”

Duncan did smile, then. “Forgive me. I didn’t expect you to be so fearful of a throng of women. I’d have thought you’d be braver considering how you took the news of your uncle’s potential betrayal.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen the worst of some of these ‘noble’ ladies,” Char said, laughing as well. “They may look innocent in your eyes, but I’ll have you know that they are out for blood when they sense a threat or actual competition in their ranks.”

“I assume you have, then? Seen the worst of them.”

“They would never divulge such things to me in person, of course, it’s crass.” Char grinned. “I do have my sources, however.”

Duncan hummed. “They seemed harmless in their pursuit.”

_ “Their  _ desire might be innocent enough — who hasn’t dreamt of marrying royalty and becoming a queen?” Char shrugged. “Their parents’ intentions are not always so noble, I’m afraid. And that means some of the girls might have warped perceptions on what is acceptable and what is not in their pursuit of the throne.”

Duncan frowned. “I had no idea that these things could be so dangerous.”

Char sighed and slumped into a chair. “I guess you wouldn’t know because you were never really guarding your charges, were you? You were only contracted to kill them.” He threw an askance look at Duncan. “So what my uncle said about you guarding a few royal families before this was false, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“So who did you kill before this?” Char asked, his interest piqued despite the morbid subject.

“I doubt you’ve heard of most of them,” Duncan replied blithely, though he did look a bit uncomfortable at the turn of their conversation. 

“Oh come now, who would I tell your secrets to?” Char rolled his eyes. “I can’t confide any of this to anyone because I don’t know who to trust. That’s how paranoid I am.” 

That was also a testament to Edgar’s talents in turning the court’s favor to his side, even though he had only been back in Kyrria for a mere two months. If Char wasn’t so worried for his life, he would’ve been impressed with Edgar’s art for persuasion. He’d blinded most of the court so successfully that Char doubted anyone would believe his claims that Edgar had poisoned his parents and was planning to dethrone Char when the time was ripe.

“Do you really trust no one else?” Duncan frowned. “I would’ve thought you would have the advantage over your uncle since you’ve been here for sixteen years while he had been running his own estate away from here for the past decade or so.”

Char laughed bitterly. “Oh, my uncle made sure I had no allies left. He’d sent away most of my previous tutors, and the chambermaids and confidants I’ve had for so long were given a very favorable severance in exchange for a land in the countryside a few weeks ago, or so I’ve heard. Perhaps he was beginning to sense the danger in letting me have just a hint of an ally, no matter who it is. Even my nursemaid and the head cook were sent away, last I heard.”

“He’s very thorough,” Duncan agreed, looking contemplative. “What of Sir Stephan?”

Char blinked. “What of him?”

“Do you not trust him?”

Char pursed his lips, his mind turning over that thought. Sir Stephan was the longest-serving member of the Royal Guard, and his talents were such that he ascended his rank to become Florian’s personal guard after only a decade of service to the crown. He was a respected man among their ranks, and Char thought that if he were to trust anyone, it would be Sir Stephan.

And yet… 

How had his uncle managed to poison Father and Mother, even with the likes of Sir Stephan guarding them? To be sure, Edgar must have had inside help instead of taking matters into his own hands, if he was smart. Char did not doubt that his uncle was smarter than he’d given him credit for. 

Did Edgar somehow buy Stephan’s loyalty? Was that why the knight was allowed to continue his service in the King’s guard? Or perhaps Edgar thought that the Royal Guard was no match for his machinations after his attempt on Florian and Daria’s lives were successful. 

Char’s head hurt just to think about it. He let out a morose sigh, staring blankly at the wall beside Duncan’s head. “It should say something that it’s easier to trust you right now instead of the people who have been by my side since I was a child.”

Duncan gave a commiserating nod. “I’m sorry it has come to this. I do wonder at your trust in me, however. What if it was misplaced?”

“Stop,” Char groaned. “You’re making my head hurt. If I can’t trust even you, then you may as well just kill me now and get it over with.”

“As I’ve said, I don’t kill—”

“Children, yes, I get it,” Char replied, waving it away. “So who have you killed in the past?” At Duncan’s hesitation, Char rolled his eyes and waved his hand impatiently. “Didn’t I just say I had no one to tell this to? Your secret is safe with me.”

Duncan began to talk, though he was obviously reluctant to divulge anything related to himself. “My previous mark was a lady of some standing in a different continent.”

“Why was she killed?”

“She had information that would prove very damaging to my client at the time. It was a matter of national importance, or so I’ve heard.”

“Let me guess. She had information on some scandal that would compromise several powerful men or women, and she was killed expediently before the information could fall into the right hands?”

“You are correct.”

Char snorted. “And the mark before that?”

“He was a nobleman, one who had ties to several other rulers of different kingdoms. This was yet in another continent, which you may or may not have visited…” 

“I’m sure you would think less of me when you know that I’ve never set foot outside of Kyrria, Ayortha, and Davalon.”

Duncan smiled. “Of course I don’t. I believe it’s a matter of opportunities. Not a lot of people have the advantage of being well-traveled.”

“Hmm. I would envy you the chance, except I don’t think I can stomach the thought of killing people for the sake of killing.”

Duncan’s expression shuttered close at that, the smile dropping from his face. “In any case, my client needed the man gone because his influence was growing too much.”

Char ground his teeth together, frustrated at how easily men and women were killed with so little justification to drive it. “And the mark before that?”

Duncan paused. “Your highness, I don’t think this sort of knowledge is necessary—” 

“Yes, well, a lot of things are unnecessary, aren’t they?” Char burst out, annoyed. He rose from his seat and cut across the room to point an accusing finger at Duncan. “So, so maybe there’s a reason as to why these men and women are killed, and no one knows this except for these clients of yours. Who cares what happened to their loved ones, right? Their family will mourn them and life moves on for Damocles, for your clients. No one will think twice about why these people deserved their death, and in another year or two they will be forgotten, just as my parents will be by this time next year.”

Char wiped away the angry tears at the corner of his eyes, glaring at Duncan. “Don’t tell me that I have no right to know about any of your ‘mark’s’ lives. They were someone’s parents, or someone’s son or daughter. Even if they were the most evil person imaginable, somewhere out there there’s someone still grieving over their loss!”

Duncan’s stricken expression softened at that. “Your highness…” 

Char startled when one of Duncan’s hands landed gently on his cheek, the man’s thumb carefully wiping a tear away. The soft touch was so unexpected that Char was incapable of flinging more accusations at Duncan’s feet, and he stood there, stunned and immobilized as Duncan wiped away his tears. 

“Your parents’ death was not your fault,” Duncan said firmly.

The conviction in the man’s voice only drove more frustrated tears out of Char’s eyes, much to his own consternation. Why was he always crying in front of this man? It was infuriating. 

“Then whose fault is it?” Char asked, trembling with rage and distress. His eyes flutter closed and he leaned in into the heat of Duncan’s palm against his cheek, seeking comfort. 

“It was not yours, nor was it theirs,” Duncan replied, the man sounding so damnably sure of himself. “I don’t think I need to tell you that ultimately, most of the tasks that have been carried out by Damocles were carried out because of human greed.”

“Absolute power corrupts?” Char said, staring at Duncan’s throat to avoid his pitying gaze. “No, you don’t need to tell me that. I’ve heard all of that before.”

“You may have lived with the knowledge,” Duncan said, “but it is a different thing to experience firsthand. I’m sorry that you’ve had to become acquainted with it at all. But you do a great disservice to yourself and your parents if you take on the blame for something your uncle has done.”

“But I should’ve known, I should’ve been there—” 

“How could you have known?”

“I…” Char frowned. “I should’ve accompanied them everywhere when Father insisted that I train to rule Kyrria one day. I should’ve been at Mother’s side so that I could tell her if I see anything suspicious—”

“Do you truly believe that their lives would have been spared if you had done that?”

Char sighed, knowing when he was defeated. “Of course not, but if I had been more aware—” 

“I forget you’re only sixteen at times,” Duncan said, sighing. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m making some presumptions over what I’m about to do next.”

Char watched warily as Duncan took his hand away, only for the man to slowly pull Char into an embrace. A rather awkward embrace at that, with part of Duncan’s armory digging into Char’s cheek. Still, Char melted into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed at its own volition despite the surprising gesture. 

Surprising, but not exactly unwelcomed. 

Char took a deep, shuddering breath and let himself be held, trying to recall the last time his parents had hugged him. 

It was probably months back when the three of them spent some idle time together in Father’s study. It was a weekly custom of theirs at Father’s insistence, that they convene together in the study after dinner at least once every week to spend some time together. 

Sometimes, they would talk of what Father and Mother were working on for that particular week, Char insisting that the topic be changed whenever it steered into dull territories, such as talks of the prospective crop yield for the year. Sometimes they would read their respective books while Mother recited her tales on the kingdoms and foreign lands she’d traveled to in her youth before she had gotten married to Father. 

It was one of his favorite moments at the time, to have his parents’ undivided attention even if it was only for mere hours. Father and Mother had various duties in the day which sometimes extended well into the night, and it was only on these rare occasions that they could spend their time together as any other family would. On that particular night, Char had asked to be allowed to retire to his chambers earlier than usual, citing exhaustion over his escapade into the town of Emir earlier that morning.

Father and Mother had agreed, though they looked a bit disappointed when their time was cut short. (Though Father had quickly followed it up with a wide smile to Mother, teasing her about the extra hour they have together once Char had retired to bed. Char had pretended to be outraged at the statement.)

The two of them had hugged Char tightly before he left for bed every single time. 

If he’d known back then that that would be the last time he would get to experience the warmth of their embrace, might he have held on more tightly? Asked to be held longer? Would he have perhaps declined to go to bed at all and spend the night away with them? 

But it was a useless thing to think about now. Char sighed at the memories and pulled away, as much as he loathed to do so. 

“I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries,” Duncan said, slowly returning to his position against the wall and standing at attention. He was the perfect impression of an impassive bodyguard once more, though his searching gaze revealed his worry. 

Char smiled and shook his head. “No… thank you. I appreciate it. Though do I really need to remind you that I’m already seventeen?”

Duncan huffed. “My apologies. I will remember next time.”

They shared a smile then, and Char thought if Duncan was truly the only man he had left whom he could trust… well, he could do a lot worse than Duncan, really.

Duncan watched the proceedings impassively as he stood against a wall, Edgar presiding over the council meeting as he was wont to do. Char was seated at Edgar’s side, looking bored and inattentive, his gaze straying to several other items in the council room instead of listening to the arguments unfolding before him.

For his part, Duncan was barely paying attention to the talks. He wasn’t here to learn about Kyrria’s political intrigue, nor did he care for any of it. He had felt no such ties to anything or anyone for as long as he could remember, ever since Damocles had “found” him and taken him in. He found that he didn’t much care for such ties in the first place; it was easier to worry only for himself and not think of the repercussions of his assignments. 

If there was anything tying him here at this particular moment, though, it was Charmont himself. 

The boy, for all his youth and inexperience, was undoubtedly smart. Though he took care to hide his intelligence to fool Edgar into believing that he’s nothing but a young, foolish heir, there was something unmistakably shrewd about the boy. Duncan wondered that people never really saw him for what he truly was.

Maybe they were content to languish in their biased perceptions that most adolescents at that age were foolish in their thoughts and worldviews. It would probably be true for some, but Char was born to be the heir of a flourishing kingdom and was subsequently forced to face adulthood ahead of his time. It would be smart not to underestimate anyone who had to go through such ordeals — much as Duncan himself had done, though his circumstances were massively different than Char’s — but perhaps it was easier for people to swallow the façades presented to them rather than try to delve deeper into the psyche of human behaviors. 

In any case, Char was deftly playing the crowd whenever he forced himself into these sorts of meetings. Reluctant as Edgar was to admit Char into the heart of the matter, even he could not deny Char’s request. Char was, after all, Kyrria’s heir; it was his right to attend such meetings. If Edgar had insisted on excluding Char from interacting with his court in every way, suspicion would be aroused before long, and Edgar would not risk such a thing so early in the game.

And Edgar was undoubtedly playing a very long game. 

When Duncan had first received news of this assignment, he had not expected the offer that was extended to him. At that point, he had been serving Damocles for close to twenty-six years ever since he was fifteen at least (his memories of his own timeline were vague, to say the least). An offer of a job that would win him his freedom was a hard one to resist. 

Details of the mark itself were vague, but he was given to understand that the reason the extremely generous reward of this particular assignment — the reward being his freedom — was due to the high profile of his mark and the time that Duncan would be expected to dedicate himself to satisfy their client’s needs. All he had known was that he would be acting as a bodyguard to the heir of a faraway kingdom in the Eastern continent. His real assignment was, of course, to dispatch the heir once the client deemed it necessary.

“The details of this assignment will be relayed to you by the client,” Damocles’s Secretary said in a droll voice. The Secretary was never the same person every time Duncan had met them; Duncan had met at least eight Secretaries in the last two decades he’d been with Damocles. They were all of the same mold, and Duncan only wondered idly where the organization had managed to find perfect replicas of the same type of people. 

“Does this client have a name?” Duncan had grunted. 

“I’m not privy to this information.”

Which meant that the client was powerful; so much so that even the Secretary — the only one who would know of every detail for each mark and client — was not allowed the barest of information on their identity. 

It was an interesting job, Duncan had decided then. And it would earn him his freedom. He could make away with the sum he would receive from Damocles — his “retirement sum”, as it was called — and he could go anywhere he wanted, be anyone he wanted. It was a heady prospect, and so he had taken the job.

He’d regretted the decision when he set his eyes on Charmont that first time. The boy had looked confused at Duncan’s glare, as though he thought it was meant for him. No. The glare was meant for himself, for his own foolishness. How could he have not asked for more information once he had sailed his way to Kyrria to meet Edgar? 

The desire for freedom had blinded him to the possibilities of failure on his part to kill his mark, and he wondered then if that would prove to be his undoing.

He knew with certainty that he wouldn’t be able to kill the young prince then. The boy looked so young and innocent, his face tinged with grief and the burden of an entire kingdom shoved onto his shoulders. It reminded Duncan too much of himself, his own emotions caught in turmoil and a need for revenge when Damocles had “taken him in”. 

He knew now that Damocles had taken advantage of him at his weakest point, but it was too late for him to shake off the shackles of his bond with the organization. He had killed too many people, and many of them were people of high standing. Damocles would use it against him even if he’d somehow managed to free himself from them. He was trapped.

And now so was the boy.

Duncan could empathize with that helplessness, the boy’s need to seek out a refuge when caught in the eye of the storm an altogether too familiar of a feeling. How fast the boy had latched onto Edgar to seek comfort, to find solace at the thought that his uncle was here to help him, unsuspecting that the very hand that offered comfort would be used to stab him in the back once Edgar no longer had any need for him.

It was a distasteful thought, that Duncan should leave the boy behind to meet that fate. 

So instead of doing what he was told to gain his freedom, he had broken Damocles’s sacred rule and told Char about Edgar’s assassination plan. 

It was necessary to let the young prince know what he was up against, so that Duncan may prepare him for either the inevitability of his death or at least for him to fight back against his uncle. He hadn’t expected the boy to push back for his own survival so fiercely; if anything, he thought Char would have buckled under the pressure.

But there was more to Char than the meek and frail appearance he gave off. Whatever Duncan had glimpsed there had given him hope that Char, too, would claw his way out of the pit in the name of survival, just like he had himself so many years ago.

Duncan hadn’t meant to offer his help to the boy when he’d pressed for it in that forest so many weeks ago now, but he was helpless to resist that beseeching gaze at the time.

Letting out a soft sigh, Duncan shifted his weight on his other foot, wondering when this particular meeting would end. 

Char’s gaze, which was still flitting about the room in search of entertainment (or seemingly giving the impression of it), was drawn to Duncan’s movement at that moment. They shared a glance, and Char’s wide smile bloomed for a split second before he schooled his face to express boredom instead.

Duncan’s answering smile was swallowed by the thought that if there was anything or anyone he could tie himself to, to give his full allegiance to, it would not be to Kyrria or its deserving citizens. It would not even be to his own freedom.

For the first time, Duncan contemplated the possibility of truly staying by Char’s side, to offer his service to the prince for the rest of his life.

Duncan muttered a soft curse under his breath, uncaring for the scandalized gazes it drew from the council members who were seated near him.  _ Damn it. Damn it all to hell.  _

“You’ve been meeting Char all this while, haven’t you?”

Duncan tried to avoid any perceptible tells that could give his discomfort away. He settled on staring at the opposite end of the wall, his face set in a dispassionate frown. “Yes, as per your request.”

Edgar was seated behind the mahogany desk in his personal study room, his fingers running idly over a wine glass set on the desk. His beady eyes were watching Duncan with a shrewdness that he did not often show outside of these walls. He was silent for another minute before he relented and leaned back in his seat.

Duncan resisted the urge to appear menacing as he stood before Edgar. It wouldn’t do to show so much of his antagonism against his client. 

“Yes,” Edgar hummed, taking a sip of his chilled wine. “Have you found out anything useful? Looks like the boy has taken a shine to you.”

“Then I assume you’re thanking me for the job well done,” Duncan replied, tilting his head in mock deference. “But no, he hasn’t said much, except to talk of his parents sometimes.”

Not exactly a lie; an embellishment, perhaps. Obviously he could not reveal the typical contents of his conversation with Char. 

Edgar snorted. “He really must get over it someday. It’s been, what, two months?”

“How long do you think his bereavement should last, then?” 

Duncan was careful to keep his tone neutral, though Edgar frowned at it nonetheless. “Well, I don’t know. But really, he should be thanking me for expediting his lessons in this.”

His fingers twitched at the words, and Duncan was thankful he had the forethought to hide his hands behind his back. He was itching to pull out the concealed knives along his sleeves to plunge into Edgar, just to wipe the smirk off his face. 

“If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t even get to experience the sliver of power I’ve granted,” Edgar continued dismissively. “He should enjoy it while it lasts. He would be eighteen in another eight months, and then all this would cease to matter.”

“You intend for me to kill him once he’s reached eighteen then?” Duncan frowned. “Why not before?”

“Ah, you don’t know the ways of this world, do you?” Edgar smirked. “If Char was to die of an ‘accident’ right now, he would look like a martyr. Public sentiments matter at this point of time you know; he makes for a compelling tragic figure, orphaned while he’s still so young, with the kingdom’s hope and trust falling onto him while he’s still coming to terms with his own grief.” Edgar pulled a face before taking another sip of his wine. “No, if you were to kill him now, the whole kingdom would treat him as some kind of hero, and the next ruler would have his job cut out for him to win back the kingdom’s love and loyalty.

“Now, if he were to make a fool of himself, however…” Edgar paused and gave Duncan a meaningful smile. “That is, if he continues to behave like a docile fool, like how he’s behaving right now, then the kingdom would see that I would be the rightful ruler in the end. When Char is finally taken care of, by then Kyrria would be so grateful that I’m still around that they wouldn’t care about Char, much less about Florian and that Ayorthian woman he’d married.”

Edgar’s face widened into a smug smile. “Perhaps I should take him out to the town, bring him out to the people to show them just how foolish the boy could be.”

Duncan nodded in acknowledgment, though he was burning inside at Edgar’s scheme. The man definitely knew the name of the game. Winning a subject’s loyalty was at the forefront of his mind at the moment, however, which meant that Char had another year left yet to live. 

Small mercies.

In that time, Duncan would do all that he could to help the boy survive yet another day, no matter what it takes.

They were back at Char’s stream, Char close to dozing under the tree. The weather had been excellent today, though the serenity of the place was broken somewhat by Duncan’s insistent tone.

The man had been relaying the contents of his talks with Edgar for the past half an hour, at least by Char’s estimate. This was their routine now, had been one for the past few months ever since they’d formed their peculiar pact. Duncan would tell him of Edgar’s latest plans every month before Char launched into his own version of the story. Compare and contrast, before they assimilate and reconvene their thoughts to plan their next move. 

“Your highness, are you listening?” 

Char cracked his eyes open, glancing to the side to see Duncan looking at him, infinitely patient, though there was a hint of a sigh to his tone. 

“I’m listening,” Char said with a smile. “Don’t you think you should be sitting down instead of standing at attention all the time?”

Duncan sighed. “We’ve been over this before.”

Char snorted. “I know. But break tradition a little bit.”

“What was I talking about just now?” Duncan challenged, eyes narrowed.

“That my uncle was planning to bring me into town next week to officiate the opening of a new gathering hall.” Char grinned. “Told you I was listening.”

“Very well,” Duncan said, shoulders settling down into a straight line again. 

“Uncle Edgar is beginning to get suspicious about these meetings, you know,” Char said apropos of nothing. 

The line of Duncan’s shoulders grew rigid again. “What did he say to you, then?”

“Just asked me out of the blue last night.”

Duncan’s frown became more pronounced at that. “He accosted you last night? Why was I not there?”

Char glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “It was right before I was getting ready before bed. You were already dismissed at the time.”

“I should have been there.”

“In case what?” Char laughed. “He would hardly kill me at my chambers. Besides, the Royal Guard was there. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“He’s been getting bolder,” Duncan insisted. “You had never allowed him to enter your tower before this.”

“I couldn’t very well turn him away without him being suspicious of it,” Char replied, a little peeved. “He made up some story about not being able to sleep and checking up on me, so the guards let him in after checking with me.”

“Who are your night guards?” 

Char looked at him askance. “Why do you need to know? So you can dismiss them?”

“If they endanger your life, I might do more than that.”

“Duncan, no,” Char said, glaring at the man. “You’re not to kill anyone who was only doing their jobs.” 

“Well, if they’re doing their job poorly—” 

“No,” Char repeated firmly. “They were Father’s guards before this. I trust them with my life.”

Duncan’s stony glare said everything Char needed to know. He obviously didn’t hold the same trust for the Royal guard. Char sighed and shook his head, though he did settle back against the tree trunk. 

“Anyway, he tried to have a heart-to-heart talk with me,” he said, staring at a distant point beyond the edge of the forest across the river. “Or some semblance of it, anyway. He was asking me how I was coping with the loss of my parents.” Char snorted. “As if he cared. Took him a while to get the point across.”

“Which was?” Duncan prompted.

“He was worried at how ‘close’ we were becoming,” Char said with a bitter laugh. “To which I reminded him that he was the one who appointed you as my bodyguard and that it’s only natural that we grow close since you needed to stick to me like a mother hen.”

Duncan looked affronted at being compared to a hen, which prompted a laugh out of Char. 

“Don’t look so offended. I meant it in a good way.”

“What did he say afterward?”

Char shrugged. “Took my word for it. Didn’t really push, but I could tell that he wasn’t satisfied with the answer.”

“Does he know that we meet here every so often then?”

“I think he suspects,” Char said, frowning. “You didn’t say anything to anyone, did you? About this place?”

“What do you take me for?” 

“Oh, don’t look so offended. I was just wondering. Maybe someone saw us headed here…” 

“Or perhaps your uncle noticed that you often left behind the Royal guards whenever you venture out here with me?” 

Char frowned. “That could be it.” He sighed. “But I don’t want to stop coming here. And  _ don’t  _ tell me to bring the Royal guards with us just to appease Edgar. This is my sanctuary. I won’t bring them or anyone else here.”

Duncan’s expression was placid as he stared at Char. “Except for me.”

Char smiled. “Except for you.”

“Why don’t you just make a run for it?” Char asked once, while the two of them were seated along the riverbed at Char’s secret spot — their secret spot now. 

Yet another month had passed, bringing Char ever closer to his deadline. In three more months, Char would be eighteen-year-old, and Edgar’s assassination plan loomed over the two of them. They had been no closer to achieving any concrete plan on the best way to thwart Edgar’s scheme. It seemed that the longer time passed, the more Edgar grew in his influence.

The people were still more charmed by their young Prince Charmont than they were of Edgar, who was merely the regent who was in charge of the kingdom until such time Char ascended the throne. The castle’s household held much of the same sentiment, especially since Char took such great care of them. 

The Royal guards were more restrained in their views, though Duncan suspected that most of them have no such qualms against Edgar. Duncan also suspected Sir Stephan of harboring some sort of dislike against him; perhaps the knight was affronted that someone like Duncan had been selected and accepted as Char’s personal bodyguard. A personal slight against the knight’s skill and commitment to the crown. Still, there was nothing to it, and the guard performed their duties admirably enough for Duncan’s taste.

Edgar was smart enough to keep most of the important key players happy, save for removing some of the selected staff and some nobles who were overtly open with their love for Char. It was done so smoothly that people had not wondered at it until it was a done deal, and most people took care not to note it too loudly lest they were charged with treason.

For the nobles and the advisors were well within Edgar’s pocket. They were very loud with their approval for Edgar, who kept them happy by ensuring their coffers were filled to the brim so that there would be no dissenters against Edgar once he’d seized the throne from Char. 

Though Char had his charm and the kingdom’s love for him as an advantage, Edgar was more politically savvy out of the two.

Still, Duncan had to give the boy credit for achieving as much as he’d had thus far. Char had kept up pretenses and put on the airs of an incredibly naive seventeen-year-old. The boy was so successful at it that most people believed that there was nothing beyond that boyish charm and good looks. 

Duncan knew that there were a lot of girls vying for Char’s attention, with their families hovering in the background wondering if it was too soon to order a chariot that would fit their eventual station if their daughter married a prince who would soon be crowned king. There was a certain discomfiting feeling attached to the sight of these girls throwing themselves at Char’s feet while Char tried to handle them in the best way he could without giving offense. And Char handled it wonderfully each time.

Edgar had seemed to have grown some distaste for these occasions as well, whenever any of the noble’s daughters came to pay their respect to him before turning their full attention to the handsome young prince at Edgar’s side. Duncan could see how disgusted Edgar was that anyone would prefer Char’s company to his, though he took care to disguise it. Still, Edgar let these fancies take hold, only because he thought it could distract Char enough and let the court see that Char was “nothing but a pretty face”.

Duncan could not agree with the sentiment, though he did agree that Char indeed had a pleasing face. 

Said face was now turning to him with raised eyebrows. “Duncan? Did you hear what I said?”

Duncan shook his head to clear his thoughts, blinking to stare at Char, nonplussed. This time around he had given up on propriety and seated himself next to the boy, deeming the area safe for now. It didn’t look as if they were followed to the grove, and so he let himself be distracted by the boy.

Too distracted, apparently.

“I was contemplating my answer,” Duncan deflected, ignoring Char’s disbelieving snort. “If I were to run for it, your uncle would alert Damocles at once, and my colleagues would be sent on a manhunt to apprehend me.”

Char frowned, sitting up straighter to peer at Duncan. “Are they really that powerful, this Damocles?”

Duncan considered his answer. “What I know of Damocles is limited at best.”

“Even though you work for them?”

“They enshroud themselves in secrecy even within their ranks,” Duncan replied. “I have no knowledge of how many there are of us, spread over the continents to do Damocles’s bidding.”

“How did you get into it then?” Char had crept even closer to Duncan, face rapt with attention and curiosity. 

Duncan sighed and looked away, opting to stare at the rushing river before them instead of being blinded by the boy’s youthful beauty. It was hard, at times, to be so close to Char and resist closing the gap between them to take what he wanted. He shook the thoughts out of his head. 

“I was taken in by a man when I was fifteen,” Duncan said, staring ahead and letting the sounds of the water take over his senses. “I didn’t know who he was at the time, except that he was my savior. My parents had both died in a hunting accident, or so I was told. When the man took me in, I was so thankful to have something to hold to that I never questioned why I began to receive instructions in some… questionable practices.”

“Were there others with you?” Char’s question floated along with the river, his hushed voice joining the cacophony of the waters rushing through time and beyond. 

“There was a girl and another boy with me. The three of us were transported elsewhere when we were taken under Damocles’s wing. All I could remember of that journey was the rough storm we ran into, and the strike of lightning that illuminated the vast expanse of the sea. There was nothing else beyond us except for the horizon.” Duncan sighed. “The boy did not survive the journey.”

“So you did it because you didn’t see any other alternative,” Char surmised, the tone of his voice sounding hollow and dispirited.

Duncan turned to him then, registering the downtrodden expression on the boy’s face. “I would not allow your fate to follow a similar path.”

Char sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you won’t. It’s rather hard to see a way out for the both of us, and I’d rather you get to escape before I meet my end.”

Duncan frowned and reached out a hand to make Char look up at him. “I would not abandon you, your highness.” 

Char took a shuddering breath. Though he avoided Duncan’s eyes, the boy leaned into Duncan’s touch as he nodded his understanding. “I know you won’t. I only wish there was something I could do to ensure that we survive this together.”

Duncan merely smiled. “Don’t worry about me, your highness. We will figure this out together.”  _ Or die trying, _ his thought supplied to him. 

Deep inside him, a desire to touch and hold Char against him ignited at that moment, though he controlled his impulse. He wished he hadn’t taken care to wear any gloves today, just so he could feel the soft skin and Char’s pulse against his fingers. 

Not for the first time, he wondered if Char’s pulse would be as erratic as his if he were to give in to his impulse and lean in for a more intimate touch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers: Excuse me, waiter, I didn't order plot with this fic.  
> Ao3 Waiter: *sighs* Yes, you're the _n_ th complaint we've received so far. Would you like to talk to the author?  
> Readers: Sure, I'll wait.  
> *moments pass as Waiter makes their way into the kitchen, and when they emerge, they look harried, the author's shouts echoing with the opening of the kitchen doors*  
> Author: --and you can tell them to take what I give them because these two idiots would not shut up and refused to cooperate and do what I tell them to do, do you know what I've had to live with, with these two in my brain? Well I'll tell you what it's like--  
> Ao3 Waiter: *insincere smile* The author extends their sincerest apologies, but they are unable to move on unless the current plot is resolved. 
> 
> _(Seriously tho wtf why did this grow into a three-parter, ffffffffff. I was meant to finish this fic today, sigh)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to come to terms with the fact that this is determined to go on longer than it should, but I promise that it will end by the next chapter (possibly with an epilogue depending on how long that chapter gets lol).

Char counted the days to when he would turn eighteen.

To others, the milestone would be marked with a celebration; a reward of sorts to celebrate the fact that one had survived to their eighteenth year. To Char, reaching eighteen meant he was getting closer to the possibility of death, of his uncle carrying out what he’d meant to do for the last one year.

When he’d received the news from Duncan over a year ago, he hardly knew what to feel about the possibility of dying within a year. He was still grappling with the loss of his parents then, and thoughts of his mortality slipped through his mind just because he couldn’t afford to give voice to them.

Now, a year later, he had gotten used to the fact that he will eventually die anyway; it was only a matter of _when._ It didn’t bother him now as much as it used to, to know that his uncle meant to kill him soon to gain power for himself. Char still couldn’t believe how fast time had passed since then, his suspicion of Edgar’s plot growing into certainty the more time he spent with Edgar. 

He was resigned to the fact, but that didn’t mean he had accepted his fate.

It was getting harder to find hope he will get through this alive, however. The more time passed, the more hopeless he felt. With his limited powers and close to zero allies in his pursuit, it was hard to concoct a workable plan. Though he was thankful that Duncan was around, even his bodyguard would be useless against an army should Edgar decide to make full use of his influence and increasing power. 

Little wonder that the two of them were getting dispirited at the thought of Char’s impending birthday. 

Edgar had planned a whole celebration for it, of course, and he had made sure that most of the invitations had been sent out several weeks ago. In one month hence, most of the kingdom’s subjects and selected delegates from Ayortha and Davalon would populate the castle to commemorate Prince Charmont’s eighteenth birthday. 

Char had barely protested when Edgar suggested they make an entire event of the day. The first of the three days would begin with a ball in honor of Char’s birthday, and the last day would be the day Char was expected to select a bride from the ball if he so chooses. The coronation was to be the exciting conclusion of three days of celebration, but Char had a feeling that only Edgar was truly looking forward to Char’s coronation day.

“Do you think he means to kill me then?” Char asked Duncan. 

Duncan’s silhouette was partially cast in the shadow as the sun beat down on the two of them, the shade from the trees keeping them from the worst of the rays. The man was studiously watching the river as he stood beside Char. He was still clothed in his typical fashion, his all-black garb and armor looking austere in the bright daylight. Char never did manage to persuade him to change his attire even after the man had loosened himself up around him.

“You mean during the banquet? Or the ball?” Duncan asked, turning to face Char. “It would be too foolish, wouldn’t it? To do so in front of so many witnesses.”

Char pursed his lips, thinking. “I don’t know. It seems even more foolish for him to hold a three days’ ball before the actual coronation day only to kill me after.”

“Perhaps he would do it a day before the coronation…” 

Char mulled that over. It was a possibility; let Char think that all was safe and almost perfect once he’d come of age, only to kill him just a day before. The coronation ceremony would still proceed, but with a different ruler. 

“Seems like the sort of thing he would do,” Char muttered, too tired to even laugh at his fate. Truly, if anyone had tried to tell him that this was what his life would have come to one day, he would’ve accused them of treason for daring to insinuate that Edgar would plot their family’s downfall. 

“Have you had no luck with your ‘sources’ lately?”

Char shook his head morosely. “Not really. Edgar has been pushing me to rotate the household staff lately.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that as well,” Duncan said, a hint of a growl in his voice. “It means he’s getting ready to make his move, that.”

“I’m beginning to think that the safest course is to run away and seclude ourselves until we could find enough sympathizers,” Char admitted before long, letting out a heavy sigh. “At the moment I don’t know just who would be on our side, and that’s the scariest thing out of all this. That I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone at all by the end of all this.”

“The good news is that we know those who are in your camp,” Duncan insisted. “Don’t lose hope. All it takes is one influential person whom we could trust so that we may expose Edgar’s plan if he means to move against you during those three days.”

“It would need to be someone the kingdom trusts,” Char mused. “And there’s not a lot of those people at the moment. Edgar has fractured most of the groups. I don’t think we can count on the nobles anymore.”

“And your advisors?”

“The only one I trust would be Darius, but he’s been very careful not to associate himself with me for the past few months. Perhaps Uncle Edgar had cautioned him against it,” Char finished bitterly.

Duncan frowned. “Well, keep heart, your highness, you never know—”

The words cut off into an abrupt silence, Duncan’s stance growing rigid as he turned his face minutely towards the entrance of the grove which led to their clearing. Duncan held a finger to his mouth, staring silently at Char in a bid for him to remain silent.

Char’s eyes widened slightly, straining his ears to listen to the sounds that had alarmed Duncan. He couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, with the sounds of the running water drowning all else at the moment. He merely nodded to let Duncan know he understood, and that was all it took for Duncan to slip into the shadows, fast as lightning, and he disappeared silently behind the trees that hid them from view.

There was a scuffle then, almost quiet, though noticeably jarring compared to the sounds of nature. Char raised to a stand though he stayed in his position, brandishing his blade in preparation. He doubted Duncan would be so easily defeated — the older man had proved his worth whenever it was required over the past few months, and Char had spent many times practicing his sword skills to the man to know just how skillful the man was — but a nervous energy overtook him as he waited to see who would emerge as the victor. Perhaps he should help Duncan instead of staying back; what if the man had gotten hurt?

Before he could think of his next action, however, Duncan had emerged into the clearing once again, a body tumbling down and pinned below his feet. Duncan’s teeth were bared in a snarl, the pointed end of his sword aimed at the intruder’s throat. The intruder let out a deep gasp, struggling against Duncan’s boots, and Char’s eyes widened at his flash of recognition. 

“Duncan, stand down!” Char called out, rushing forward to the two figures. 

“Stay away, your higness,” Duncan snarled, his eyes flashing quickly to Char’s in warning before they fixed onto the intruder’s again. “He might attack you.”

Char sighed. “Duncan, he doesn’t have any weapon on him.” He turned to the intruder with a raised eyebrow. “Do you, Sir Stephan?”

Stephan glared at Duncan, holding his arms out in surrender. “I do not,” he gritted out. “Would you please take your foot off my belly?” 

“I will not,” Duncan replied, deadpan.

“Duncan, look carefully, he doesn’t have a weapon on him,” Char argued, stepping closer to Duncan’s side. “Are you alone, Sir Stephan?”

“Yes,” Stephan answered, craning his neck to look at Char. “You may inspect the woods yourself if you don’t believe me, your highness.”

Duncan’s glare swiveled to Char then. “Char, don’t—” 

Ignoring Duncan, Char stepped past the two of them and made his way to the mouth of the grove, stalking past the trees to stick his head out cautiously. Except for three horses (two belonging to Duncan and Char and the other one presumably Stephan’s), there were no other souls to be seen. Granted, they might have been hiding out somewhere, but Char doubted that an entire army could hide themselves so effectively along the forest trail. 

When Char returned to the clearing, Duncan was still glaring daggers at him. Char rolled his eyes and laid a hand on Duncan’s free arm, the other still held out to pin Stephan down on the ground by his sword.

“There’s no one else there,” Char reassured him. “He’s truly alone.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” Duncan said through gritted teeth, still glaring at Stephan. 

Fondness swelled inside Char at how fiercely Duncan was trying to protect him, and he squeezed the man’s arm in further reassurance. “Well, I’m not now, am I? Duncan, stand down and let Sir Stephan explain himself. I’m sure he’s come here for a reason.”

Duncan ignored Char, though he did lower down his sword by a tick. It still hovered near Stephan, an unmistakable threat to warn the knight against any funny business. 

“How did you find us?” Char asked, letting his hand fall to his side again. “Uh, you can sit up now; easier for you to answer.”

Stephan grunted, looking annoyed, though he brought himself into a sitting position, his eyes fixed warily on Duncan’s sword. “I followed the trail. I hope you’ll forgive me, your highness, but I’ve been having one of my men shadow you.”

At those words, Duncan snarled and redirected his sword to Stephan’s throat. Stephan swallowed down his words and raised his arms in surrender once more. He didn’t flinch away from Char throughout it all. 

Char narrowed his eyes at that. “How long has that been going on?” 

“For… I suppose for the past eight months.”

“That long?” Char hissed. “And why have you only shown yourself now? Did my uncle finally tire of waiting and decided to send you to kill me?”

“Your highness, I would never,” Stephan breathed out, looking indignant. “If I were to come here and kill you, I would’ve brought my sword with me. As you can see, I have nothing on me at the moment. I’ve left it with my horse if you would like to confirm my story.”

“No, your highness,” Duncan said, his tone brooking no argument.

Char merely sighed and glared at Duncan. “Alright, for a moment let’s say I believe you, Sir Stephan, that you have no weapon on you and that you meant me no harm. But I must know: Did you shadow me at Edgar’s behest? ”

“No, your highness,” Stephan replied, tilting his chin lower in deference. “Believe me, whatever I have done was always in the service of the crown.” 

Char frowned, still suspicious. “Explain.”

“Your highness, if you could excuse my language,” Stephan said warily, eyes darting between Duncan and Char, “I was not thrilled with how our duties were taken over by some upstart who was not even from Kyrria.”

Char placed a placating hand in advance on Duncan’s arm, knowing the man would bristle with the perceived insult. “Captain, kindly refrain from insulting anyone at the present moment, especially when there’s a sword to your throat,” he said, tone dry. “May I remind you that my mother was Ayorthian?” 

Stephan’s face darkened in embarrassment, and he ducked his head in apology. “I didn’t mean— my apologies, your highness, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. Only, you could understand my worry — or the entire Guard’s worry — that our power had been effectively reduced when Sir Edgar brought him to be your bodyguard. And forgive me if I anger you with what I say next, but we were disappointed that you essentially pushed us aside after King Florian and Queen Daria passed away.”

Char bit his lip at the reminder, only now realizing his mistake. “I alienated you and the rest of the Royal Guard.” 

Stephan raised his head, relief painted on his face. “Precisely. I don’t want to hurt you, your highness, with my… presumptuous words. But we were disheartened at the thought that you had discarded us in favor of a stranger. It wasn’t made easier when Sir Edgar made some changes to the Guard.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” Char said, sighing. “I’m sorry for that. It truly wasn’t my wish to demote or even force some of your best men to retire, but Edgar was—” 

“I understand, your highness,” Stephan interrupted, looking earnest. “So you must see why we had to take some measures to ensure that you weren’t… hoodwinked by Sir Edgar’s plot and by this… man’s presence. We merely wanted to assure ourselves that you were unharmed by their hands.”

“Were you the reason Edgar was so suspicious of me when I disappeared off to the forest every so often?” Char wondered. 

“I could not say,” Stephen replied, “though I can promise you that the men that served under me remain loyal to the crown, as am I. We would never do anything to jeopardize you, your highness, you must know that.”

“I would, if I had paid more attention and come to you earlier,” Char admitted softly. “I’m sorry, Sir Stephan. But I couldn’t trust anyone for the past year and a half, and I think you know why.”

Stephan’s gaze went to Duncan then, the assassin still standing poised with his sword raised in warning. “Then… you trust him?” 

“With my life,” Char replied firmly. He tightened his hold on Duncan’s arm before letting go. “Duncan was the one who warned me to guard myself against Edgar. He has remained steadfast as my closest ally in all this. We have been brainstorming on how best to handle my uncle for the past… well, ever since Duncan came here.”

Stephan’s expression cleared at that, the askance looks he’d thrown to Duncan turning into respect instead. “Then I have misjudged you,” he muttered, addressing Duncan directly at last. “My apologies.”

Duncan snorted, though he did finally lower his sword, his stance relaxing somewhat at the apology. “Simple mistake to make,” he grunted. “We didn’t know whether we could trust you either.”

Stephan looked pained at the admission, though he nodded in understanding. “Of course, I understand your dilemma. We have been experiencing the same sort of problem within our ranks, trying to determine the guards who remain loyal to the crown, to you, your highness. I would trust my unit with my life, but I cannot speak for the entire troop, not now when we are so fragmented.”

Char sighed. “This is looking more and more bleak at the moment. If I lead a sort of challenge against my uncle, Kyrria could be destabilized in just a few weeks, and all of Father and Mother’s hard work would have been all for nothing. Do you know whose side the nobles are on?”

Stephan’s frown deepened. “I know that most of them were on yours, but I think they have seen the ‘error of their ways’ for the past few months, especially when some among them were rumored to have been poisoned.”

“What?” Char gasped, aghast. “Do you mean to tell me that some of them have been murdered?”

“You may not have heard much unless you’ve been down to the taverns in town,” Stephan replied darkly. “There were rumors that some of them did not die of old age, but were… persuaded to leave this world by an unknown hand. Of course, no one dared to say any name out loud.”

Char and Duncan shared a look. 

“Things have progressed further along than I thought,” Char said, lips pursed in annoyance. “Something must be done, or more people will die. Well, since you’re here… I’m assuming you’d be willing to cast in your lot with ours?”

Stephan nodded, smiling for the first time since the three of them had gathered together. “Of course, your highness, I would be happy to assist you. Though I think we should regroup at the castle later when my absence wouldn’t be so conspicuously noted.”

“Of course, Sir Stephan. Lead the way.” Char smiled, feeling hope for the first time in months. 

Sir Stephan rode ahead of them while Char and Duncan fell back a few paces behind, both of them engaged in a hushed conversation. 

“Are you certain we can trust him?” Duncan had asked as soon as Stephan had turned his back on them. 

No doubt Stephan was still keeping an eye on them, the man riding his horse at a lackadaisical pace as to not lose the two of them. But Char found that comforting instead of suspicious. He’d known Stephan, after all, the man guarding Father ever since Char could remember, though he’d always been intimidated by the man in his younger years.

“I’m sure,” Char replied, smiling at Duncan’s disgruntled expression. “You needn’t be so vexed, I’ve known Sir Stephan my entire life.”

“And yet he hasn’t offered his help before this.”

“Duncan, stop it,” Char warned. “If you start showing distrust over our potential allies, then we’re never going to get far with our plans. Do I need to remind you I might die within this month?”

Duncan sighed as he threw an apologetic glance to Char. “I am unused to working with others.”

Char huffed a laugh. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” It’s obvious now that Duncan had drawn his attention to it. Of course Duncan was uncomfortable with the thought of working with someone else when he’d been trained to work alone as a mercenary. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can vouch for Stephan, now that he’s made his stance clear to us.

“Besides,” Char added, smiling at Duncan, “I have you by my side still, don’t I? I know I can trust you to keep me safe even if there are spies within our ranks.”

Duncan let out a long-suffering sigh, though they shared a smile before continuing on their journey. 

The way back to the castle was familiar to them, having made the journey for more than a dozen times now. The path they traveled on would typically cut through a trail that would take them to a nearby town, Emir. Some days Char and Duncan would find their way to Emir where they would go visit the nearby townhouses or make a brief appearance at the public areas. There had been several occasions where Char had dragged Duncan along to accompany him to the market, or a visit to the library, or sometimes just a stroll through the town’s bustling center. Duncan would roll his eyes, but he would also shadow Char silently, sometimes favoring him with a comment or a smile at some of Char’s observations.

It was an enjoyable pursuit, a way to forget his trouble for a while after weeks of fruitless scheming. It was also a useful excuse for them should Edgar ever ask why they were always disappearing off together. This time around, with Stephan leading the way, Char forewent the thought of a visit and followed the knight, content to keep the companionable silence with Duncan at his side. 

The silence was broken before long, however. Up ahead, Stephan leaped into action when they heard a disturbance of some sort, two women screaming profanities while there were jeers from a group of men from the sound of it. The men’s jeers turned into alarmed cries when Stephan charged through the trail to confront them, Char and Duncan following closely behind. 

“Cease whatever you’re doing right now, gentlemen, or you’ll pay for it in blood,” Stephan said, his tone brooking no arguments. He brandished his sword to deter the men, while Duncan trotted his horse to the other side to ensure that the men couldn’t escape.

When Char saw what they were up against, he fought a sigh of relief. Five men were surrounding two girls, the men equipped with blades in their hands. Their expressions ranged from shock to fear when they saw Stephan’s arrival, their faces paling when Char emerged behind Duncan and Stephan. 

One of the men cursed loudly, raising his arms once he’d dropped the blade in his hand. It seemed as if they’d recognized Char, at least, most of them losing hope as they took in their reversed situation.

The two girls looked relieved at their arrival, though Char thought they were holding their own quite well if the blade in one of their hands was anything to go by. Still, it would have been hard for them to make their way through unscathed with five men against them. 

“What’s going on here?” Stephan demanded when silence reigned amongst them.

“Bandits,” Char said, shaking his head. His gaze swung from one man to another, taking their appearances into account. They looked less menacing now that the cavalry had arrived, most of them averting their gazes and trying to appear harmless. The oldest of them looked as if he’s in his early forties, while the rest were a smattering of men in their twenties and thirties.

Stephan and Duncan made quick work of them then, dismounting from their horses to corral the men together and restrain them with a rope. 

While the bandits were being taken care of, Char turned his attention to the girls. “Are you two alright?”

The one with the blade smiled. “We are now, thanks to you, Charmont.”

Char’s eyebrows raised at their own volition, surprised at the intimate use of his name. “Pardon me, do I know you?” He squinted at her closely, his eyes widening with recognition. “Areida?” 

Char wasn’t completely sure of her identity, but there was something about the sweep of her hair over her brows and those keen eyes that he recognized, even if they had met almost ten years ago now when Mother had taken him to Ayortha. Mother had insisted on the trip to “broaden Char’s horizon”. 

It was his first trip to somewhere that wasn’t Kyrria, and Char held fond memories of their time there. They had met Mother’s family and spent a month there while Father wrote to them every day, asking them to hasten their return. Mother had only laughed and winked to Char when they read the letters together. (“You see, this is how you make your beloved miss you,” she had told him with a teasing smile. “Keep them on their toes.”)

It was during the trip that Char had first met Areida. Areida was one of the Ayorthian heirs, the third in line to inherit the throne. She had been eight and Char was seven, and the two had become fast friends for the entire month while Mother looked on as the two of them played together. 

At present, Areida burst into laughter at Char’s recognition, waving sheepishly at Char with the blade still in her hand. “I thought you wouldn’t remember me at all, to be honest. It’s been a while since we’ve last met.”

It was true that they had both changed, their adolescence leaving them behind ten years hence, but Char thought he would recognize her green eyes and wide smile anywhere. 

Char grinned and dismounted Mustang, petting the horse affectionately before turning to Areida again. “Well, hard not to, especially with a weapon in your hand.”

Areida laughed again, looking sheepish. “Oh no, you still remember that occasion, do you?”

“If by occasion you mean that time you ran around with a kitchen knife at your birthday party because you thought that was the best way to cut a cake?” Char teased. “Then yes, I do remember it, very clearly.”

“I’m never going to live that one down, am I?” Areida groaned. 

“Never,” Char promised. “But what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I never got to tell you I’m here on an exchange program,” Areida replied. “I meant to write so long ago, but there were just a lot of things going on and before I realized it, I’ve been here for a whole month.”

“Exchange program?” Char raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

Areida rolled her eyes. “It was Mum’s idea. She told me that if I’m ever going to follow my dear brother’s footsteps, then I better learn from hands-on experience. Whatever that means. So here I am, immersing myself in a sort of ‘study abroad’ campaign, brought on by Mum’s sheer determination.”

Char laughed. “I’ve missed your mother, how is she?” 

“Still a force of nature, as you can see,” Areida replied dryly. “Oh, that reminds me! I should introduce you to my friend, Ella—” Her words cut off into a frown when she swung to the empty space beside her. She rolled her eyes when she saw where her friend had gone off to.

Ella was engaged in what looked like a shouting match with Stephan, which was impressive considering Stephan’s hulking stature and Ella’s more diminutive form. The knight’s height didn’t deter Ella from arguing with the man, however, her voice rising in volume as Char and Areida made their way over to the commotion.

“—well, I’m telling you now that you’re making a mistake by sending them to the gaol,” Ella argued. “Why are you subjecting them to that when all they did was wave some stupid knife around?”

“They were going to rob you,” Stephan said, tone disbelieving, “if we hadn’t come across your group.”

“Well, they didn’t get to rob us, did they?” Ella asked, crossing her arms. “If you send them to the gaol without a fair trial or at least a warning, then you’re just perpetuating the cycle because the people who depend on them to bring food home would be left with nothing. And what do you think will happen to desperate people with nothing, kind Sir? Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“Ella,” Areida interrupted, managing to sound both fond and harried. “Stop bullying the man and let him do his job.”

“No, Areida,” Ella said, swinging to glare at her friend. “Tell these people that it was a mistake.”

Stephan turned to look at Char, the raised eyebrow and frustrated sigh clearly expressing his sentiment of “are you listening to this?” without uttering a word.

“I don’t think them trying to rob you was a mistake,” Char said cautiously.

“No, no, not _that,_ ” Ella insisted. “I meant if you send them to the gaol now, then you would be—” 

“—perpetuating the cycle, yes, I’ve heard,” Char finished with a smile. “But their attempt to rob you in broad daylight should be punished, shouldn’t it? What’s to deter them from doing the same thing to other people who might not be so lucky to be rescued?” 

“Oh, typical, you think we needed rescue, do you?” Ella said, sighing. She turned to Areida. “So who’s this? Some spoiled boy you’ve met before? One of those rich brats you’re always complaining about?” 

Char was more amused than affronted, and he shared a smile with Areida before he schooled his expression. 

“This _spoiled boy_ happens to be Prince Charmont, Ella,” Areida said with a wide smile. “The heir to the throne? You might have recognized him.”

Ella’s eyes widened for a moment before she swung back to glare at Char. “So _you_ were the one behind all these policy changes?” she asked, outraged.

Char blinked rapidly, not expecting the sudden accusation. “What, n-no—” he sputtered.

“Because oh boy, do I have some words for you,” Ella continued, undeterred.

“Oh my lord, Ella!” Areida said, torn between laughter and an embarrassed gasp. “Stop it right now, we were meant to go back to Emir before dusk, remember?” 

“What?” Ella asked, aghast. “Now that I have the chance to speak to the man in power, you just want me to drop it? Do you know me but at all, Areida?”

“I do know you, and I know it will take you _hours_ to air out your complaints to these poor men who were probably on their way back to the castle,” Areida said with a placating arm on her friend’s shoulder. “You can always make an appointment to speak with Prince Char during the upcoming ball, can’t you?”

“I’m not going to some ball,” Ella scoffed. 

Char smiled, back to feeling amused now that he wasn’t being attacked. “Why not?”

“Why should I waste money and three of my days just to dance and mingle around with people I barely tolerate?” Ella asked.

Char nodded. “A sound argument.”

Areida rolled her eyes. “You’re both insufferable.”

“But well, if you’re feeling very passionate about your cause,” Char continued, “you are more than welcomed to come to the ball so we could discuss this like adults instead of lounging around in the forest where more bandits could come across this scene, yes?”

Ella looked conflicted, her eyes squinting in suspicion. “We would talk… during a ball?” 

Char laughed. “Yes, or both of you could come to the castle tomorrow. That is, if you don’t have any pressing matters.”

“We’d love to,” Areida said before Ella could speak. “And now we best be off. We’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

With that, Areida linked an arm around Ella’s before marching them off to the trail that would take them back to Emir, Areida waving cheerfully at Char before they departed. 

Char chuckled at the sight, and when he turned back to face Stephan and Duncan, both of them were looking at him with disbelief. Even the tied-up bandits were looking somewhat confused at the odd confrontation.

“What?” Char demanded, laughing a little. “I like her. She had some good points, even though it wasn’t _me_ who changed the policies, of course…” 

Stephan frowned. “I don’t think it’s wise to invite mere strangers to the castle, your highness—” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Char replied with a wave of his hand. “I know Areida well enough, we’ve been friends since we were little, sort of. I’m sure she would vouch for Ella. I think they’re the perfect opportunity for us, actually…” 

Duncan, who had been silent throughout all this, looked at him with obvious intrigue. “For our plans?” 

Char smiled at how quickly Duncan cottoned on to his thread of thought. “Yes, for our plan. Trust me, I have a good feeling about this.”

The good feeling was somewhat tempered when Ella and Areida made it to their “appointment” at the castle the next day.

Ella was argumentative from the start once they were led to Char’s study. It was in the early afternoon, and it was the first time Char had experienced having so many people in his study all at once. Ella, Areida, and Char were seated in the chairs near the unlit fireplace while Stephan was standing guard at the nearby window and Duncan was, as usual, trying to blend in with the wall at the corner of the room.

“I’ve already told you, Ella,” Char explained patiently, “that I wasn’t the one who wanted to have all these policies changed.”

Before Ella could retort, Areida held up a hand, frowning at Char. 

“Really? Then why have they been changed for the past few months?” 

Char sighed. “Do you remember my uncle, Edgar?”

“Yes…?”

“Well, after my parents passed away, Edgar came back to Kyrria to… ‘help’ me with my reign,” Char told them, watching Areida and Ella’s reactions closely. “He’s acting as the regent in my place while I’m trying to find my footing, so to speak. But… lately, he has overstepped some boundaries.”

Areida frowned. “Char, are you saying that Edgar is overruling you?”

Char drew another sigh and stared at the girls. “Listen, the things I tell you _cannot_ leave this room. Do you understand me?”

“Char,” Areida replied, looking uncertain. “You’re scaring me a little—” 

“I’m serious, Areida,” Char pleaded earnestly. “If any of the information I share with you today falls into the wrong hands, it would be a matter of life and death. _Your_ life and death.”

Areida, more accustomed to matters at the court, caught on immediately, her brows furrowing with worry. “Char… I promise. On my word, and Ella’s.”

Ella, seeing the serious expression on Areida’s face, nodded solemnly. “Of course,” she replied. “Besides, I have no one to confide these things other than Areida.”

“Thank you,” Char said, smiling at Areida. Somehow, he knew without a doubt that he could trust Areida; and if she trusted Ella in turn, that was enough for him. “I have reasons to believe that Edgar is planning to kill me to take over the throne.”

The words, pent up inside Char for so long, felt like a relief; an unburdening of the load he didn’t know he had been bearing. Though he had a trustworthy confidant in Duncan, who was always by his side, it was still quite a lonely thing not to be able to confide to others about their suspicions. 

Areida looked understandably shocked and worried, while Ella looked confused at the sudden turn of the conversation. Stephan’s face was grim as he leaned against the window ledge, mouth tightening at Char’s words. 

“Why haven’t you told any of this to me before?” Areida asked, dismayed. “We’ve been sending letters back-and-forth for the past year!”

“Areida, you must know that someone like Edgar would be on the lookout for any sensitive information in my correspondence,” Char reminded her.

She frowned. “Alright, well, how are you so certain of your uncle’s plot? Do you have proof? Can you not charge him for treason, if this is true?”

“The proof is… well, Duncan here is my sole witness so far,” Char explained, gesturing to the skulking man at the edge of the room. “My uncle brought him here under the pretext of him becoming my bodyguard because he’d claimed that there are assassination plots. I found out quickly enough that Duncan was hired as a mercenary to kill me, once the time came.”

All eyes were on Duncan, then, the man himself looking displeased at being called to attention. Understandable, Char thought fondly, for someone who was used to hiding in the shadows. 

Areida still looked uncertain. “But… I’m sorry, Char, I want to believe you, but if you have no proof, it would be very hard to pinpoint this plot to your uncle. I’m sure Duncan is correct, but no one will believe the two of you if there isn’t any evidence.”

Char deflated and slumped into his seat. Here he thought he could have a way out of this somehow, now that he had some people he could trust on his side— 

“I could provide the evidence for you, your highness.”

This time, all eyes turned to Stephan, Char gaping at him in surprise at the admission. 

“A few weeks ago,” Stephan said, continuing when no one was inclined to speak, “one of my men approached me and pulled me aside to talk. This was when you had already gone to sleep, your highness, and I was on my way to retire in my chambers when he found me. 

“Before I continue, I would like to clarify that the Royal Guards have remained loyal to you, even if the other units may have some doubt over your… capabilities. Forgive me if this pained you, your highness.” At the shake of Char’s head, Stephan continued. “Of course we would need to forge relations with Sir Edgar, or at the very least maintain the appearance of good relations for the last year. I know that some of my men have spoken good things about the man, but we remain first and foremost your guards. 

“In any case, Bennett pulled me aside to relay his concern when Edgar had visited your tower during his watch. The purpose of the visit, he soon found out, was to persuade Bennet into enacting an act of treason upon you.”

Char’s mouth set into a grim line. “He meant for Bennett to kill me because he suspects Duncan would not when the time comes?” 

“An astute observation,” Stephan replied, smiling faintly. “If Bennett hadn’t come to me, I wouldn’t have thought to approach you yesterday. Once Bennett had confessed everything, I knew that Duncan could be an ally in this, and thankfully I was right.”

Char smiled tremulously. “Thank you for coming to us, Sir Stephan.”

“Of course, your highness, me and my men would do no less,” he replied off-handedly. “And I’m sure Duncan would do the same, as devoted as he is to staying by your side at all times.”

Char laughed. “Yes, he does that sometimes. I told him once that he was like a hen corralling its chick back to the nest.” Char turned to share a smile with Duncan, though he was surprised to see Duncan frowning at Stephan instead. The two men were looking at each other intently, and though Char knew that something was passing between the two of them then, he couldn’t make out just what exactly it was.

“Well, alright,” Areida said, interrupting Char’s thoughts. “At least now we have something to work on. So let’s talk business, and we can help you figure out how to get out of this alive.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter got too long so I decided to split it with the epilogue, whoops.

It was strange how the passage of time works sometimes.

The last one year had passed slowly by Char’s account, slow as molasses, as Char and Duncan put their heads together to thwart Edgar’s plan. On those days, the future had seemed so far away, and Char wished the days would fly by faster, filled with anxiety when every day proved to be the same — Edgar was still the regent, while Char was a prince in name only — and nothing Char could do would make the anxiety go away.

Now that it was getting closer to the day of Char’s eighteenth birthday, time seemed to move incongruently faster as their little group planned on how to best Edgar at his own game. Char wished there was a way to abate the flow of time. Every day that brought him closer to the day was a stark reminder that his life was hanging by a thread.

Though he had gotten used to the idea of what the upcoming date would entail after preparing for it with his group of friends (or “the rebel council”, as Ella had cheekily named themselves), he still felt nervous at the thought of actually carrying out their plan. 

In normal circumstances, the only thing he would have to worry about when attending a ball in his honor was forgetting the dance steps, or forgetting the names of certain important dignitaries. That offense alone would be enough to cause skirmishes that would eventually lead to wars because human beings are a fickle thing.

Char had continued his meetings with Areida and Ella, with Stephan occasionally joining them if he wasn’t called for duty elsewhere. Duncan’s presence was a given, though the man preferred to remain silent unless he was called for. Their discussions might not always be fruitful, but it was a comfort knowing that he and Duncan were not alone in their quest to ensure Char’s survival. 

It was admittedly nice to talk with Areida and Ella, especially since Char had no one he could call a friend after being isolated for so long from the rest of the world. Most of the friends he had were long-distance relations, with correspondences sometimes far and in between. It was also a given that his position as the heir to the throne meant he didn’t have many peers his age that he could relate to. Areida and Ella’s presence provided a pleasant change to his days, even if their meetings were a reminder of Char’s mortality.

Perhaps inevitably, Edgar noted the change to Char’s atypical company after a council meeting one day, smiling kindly at him as he usually would when he asked for Char to stay after the meeting. He remained silent until the advisors had filed out of the room before he turned to Char. 

“I see you’ve made some friends for the past week, Char,” Edgar said, leaning back in his seat and making himself more comfortable. “I feel as if I recognize one of the ladies, though I can’t quite put my finger on it…” 

Char forced a smile. “Oh, you mean Princess Areida?”

“Princess Areida?” Edgar frowned. “Of Ayortha?” 

“Yes. I don’t think you’ve met her before, but we became friends ever since Mother took me back to Ayortha. We’ve been writing to each other for the last few years, and she’s been here at her mother’s recommendation for the past month.” Char smiled. “That’s why I had to invite her here. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, and it’s only proper that we receive her as a guest, although understandably she didn’t want to make her presence widely known.”

Edgar’s lips pursed, though he didn’t comment beyond a clipped, “I see.” He gathered the scrolls on the table, making himself busy. “And how long is she planning to stay here?” Edgar asked, a cloying smile pasted on his face as he gathered his things.

“Oh, I’m not sure, she’s never mentioned a deadline,” Char said, shrugging. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, of course not.”

The apparent lie made Char smile, though he sought to temper his mirth. It was clear Areida’s sudden appearance unsettled Edgar, his uncle looking disconcerted enough that he was trying to buy some time to gather his thoughts and calculate if Areida was a risk to his plan.

“And the other girl?” Edgar prompted.

“Oh, Ella? She’s Areida’s friend. I believe she’s a daughter of a merchant in Emir.”

The curl of Edgar’s lips — not quite a frown, but not quite a smile either — was enough to tell Char what the man thought of Ella and her merchant father.

“Well, she sounds like a lovely girl,” Edgar settled on, though the dismissal in his manner was clear. “And what have you been talking about, hmm?”

Char forced an embarrassed laugh, feeling troubled at the thought that he’d perhaps endangered his friends. “Oh, you know… just… juvenile things.”

Edgar raised a disbelieving brow at that.

“If I may speak on Prince Charmont’s behalf,” came Duncan’s wry tone from the far corner of the council meeting room, “I believe he’s invited them here because he’s harboring affection for one of them.”

Edgar did burst out with laughter at that, while Char pretended to be horrified by glaring at Duncan. 

“Oho, so was this the reason you’ve been gallivanting around the woods all this while?” Edgar teased, looking pleased to have solved at least one mystery.

Char sighed and feigned embarrassment. “It’s… part of it.” 

Edgar chuckled. “It’s nice to see you showing interest in such things, I suppose,” he said, patting Char’s shoulder patronizingly as he rose from his seat. “Well, Char, do enjoy your pleasant time with them.” With another patronizing smile to Char and a nod to Duncan, Edgar left the room.

The inherent threat in Edgar’s parting words was enough to make Char slump in his seat, though he threw a grateful smile to Duncan once he was sure his uncle was gone. 

“Thank you for that.” Char grinned. “I didn’t know you were such an effortless liar.”

“Parts of being a mercenary, I’m afraid,” Duncan said, returning Char’s smile with one of his own. 

“I hope he doesn’t suspect anything,” Char mused. “It would be terrible if Areida and Ella were to be involved in all this mess.”

“Your highness, they’re already irrevocably involved,” Duncan pointed out. “We knew the risks when we decided to help you. Put your trust in us and know that we will help you see this through.”

Char’s smile widened; he was becoming more grateful for Duncan’s presence in his life by the day. “Thank you, Duncan. I don’t think I’ve ever said it before, but I don’t know what I would do without you by my side.”

Duncan looked pleased. “Of course. I’m honored to serve you, your highness.”

Before Char knew it, three weeks had passed and the first day of the ball loomed before him. 

He was decked in a rather elaborate outfit for the first night of the ball, and he was only waiting for Stephan’s signal to make his way down to the decorated halls, gilded with abundance in the wake of the celebration. 

Char and Duncan were finally left alone in Char’s privy chamber once the tailor, a middle-aged lady called Aldith, and her assistants were satisfied with their work. Char examined his reflection in the mirror furtively, feeling self-conscious. He rarely cared what he’d looked like before this. After all, what would his appearance matter in this case, when his survival was the more important thing tonight?

“Your highness, don’t waste the tailor’s hard work,” Duncan said from the corner of the room, the man looking on in amusement as Char twisted the lapels on his tunic between his fingers.

Char sighed and glanced at Duncan. “Easy for you to say,” he complained. “You’re not wearing all these heavy layers and these confounded lapels.”

“Leave them be,” Duncan said, clearly laughing now. “Aldith will murder you if she has to fix it again minutes before the ball is scheduled to start.”

“Well, she’s welcomed to join the long line of people looking to assassinate me,” Char said, rolling his eyes. 

Duncan merely smiled, allowing the gallows humors. The older man was dressed in his usual ensemble instead of getting dressed for the ball, insisting that he was still on duty.

(“Duncan, he won’t kill me while I’m _dancing,_ so live a little.” 

“And what if he does? Where will you be then?” 

“Well, I’ll be dead.” 

“Then you shouldn’t mind whatever I’m wearing in any case.”

Char laughed. “Point taken.”)

There was a knock on the door, Stephan opening it seconds later. “Your highness, we’re ready for your arrival.” He smiled at Char. “Good luck, your highness.”

Char sighed and took a last glance at his reflection. He felt as if he was still playing at being a king, even after all this time, and the attire didn’t help matters, the regalia looking ill-suited for a useless prince such as himself. 

Well, it didn’t matter now. Now was the time to face the crowd, and Sir Edgar, and whatever that may come with it.

The ball itself turned out to be quite enjoyable if Char could ignore the threat hanging over his entire livelihood. 

Though he didn’t care for balls on most occasions, it was a welcome reprieve to forget about his potential demise with Char focusing his energy on entertaining the crowd who wished him joy, at least for a few hours. 

There were, of course, not-so-enjoyable things such as the obligatory dances with his would-be-suitors. Ayortha and Davalon had sent their assemblies to Kyrria, while the nobles had decked out their daughters, hoping one of them would catch Char’s fancy for the next three nights. 

Char bore with this as well as he could, and there was at least a pleasant surprise in all of this: Areida had made an appearance at the ball, bringing Ella along with her. While the two of them had been essential to Char’s plan, they were not required to be present at the ball itself at the time of its execution. 

“May I have this dance?” Areida asked cheekily as she curtsied. She had approached him for the dance after Char had been twirled every which way by his suitors for the past hour. 

Char laughed. “It feels like my feet might fall off at any moment, but I would be delighted.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll pick them up for you,” Areida drawled, grinning as she stepped closer to Char. 

The dance would only last for several minutes, but it was enough to invigorate Char for the opportunity it gave him to speak to his friend. “I see your mother has not seen it fit to join the festivities tonight.”

“Oh, she knows I’ll be here,” Areida said airily. “She sends her love, by the by. She’s been asking when you’re to return to Ayortha. It’s been so long since you’ve set foot there.”

Char sighed. “I wish I could,” he admitted wistfully. “Even though I was only seven when Mother took me there, I still remember that it was one of the best months in my life. I’m afraid that I wouldn’t get the opportunity to visit any longer…” 

“Oh, hush,” Areida said, patting his lapels disapprovingly. “Don’t talk of morbid things. You will survive tonight yet, Charmont.”

Char laughed. “I only meant that… well, even if I were to survive tonight, once I become king I can hardly be spared to visit Ayortha, would I?”

Areida considered that as they went through the motions of the dance, both of them silent for a long moment. 

“You look as if you have something on your mind,” Char prompted, curious at Areida’s uncharacteristic silence. 

“Well…” Areida said, lowering her voice when they were close to each other again. “I was thinking. Perhaps… I know it sounds silly but, perhaps we could marry each other.”

Char’s thoughts stuttered to a stop at those words, and he was sure that he was gaping at her since Areida blushed at his stunned silence.

“I know you don’t love me,” Areida continued in a rush, “and I’m alright with that. What I’m proposing is a marriage of convenience; a political marriage.”

Char frowned. “Why are you suggesting this if you don’t love me?”

She bit her lips, looking uncertain. “Char, I know you love someone else, and that’s fine—” 

“Wait, what, no I don’t—” 

“Char, please just listen to me before this dance ends,” Areida hissed. “I know you can’t love me and I’m alright with that because I too have someone I love. I’m proposing this marriage because we would become stronger allies by strengthening the ties between Kyrria and Ayortha, and, well, you need an heir to continue your lineage. I’m sure my parents could spare me because I’m only the third in line.”

Char’s brows furrowed, still confused at the turn in the conversation. Of all the things he’d expected tonight, it certainly wasn’t a marriage proposal.

“Neither of us have the luxury of marrying the person we love most,” Areida continued in a low voice, her tone betraying her nerves. “But if we’re married to each other, I can give you the chance of an heir, and we will both be free to love whoever we want to.”

There was nothing Char could say to respond to that at the moment, the realization that Areida was serious in her proposition only making him further confused. The dance ended in the next minute, and Areida parted from him reluctantly. 

“Look, think about it, alright?” she pleaded before she ran off into the crowd.

Char, still flummoxed, declined the next dance and cited his fatigue to get away from the gaggle of girls who were still vying for his attention. They took it in stride and sought for other worthy men, and Char let his feet carry him towards his throne. Once he was seated, he sought Areida in the crowd, finding her deep in conversation with Ella at a semi-secluded corner. 

While Areida had always been a cheerful person, there was something else that animated her face so when she talked to Ella, the two of them speaking to each other and ignoring their surroundings and the people looking to intrude into their group. Char watched, transfixed, as Areida smiled fondly at Ella before tucking a loose hair behind Ella’s ear, Ella smiling shyly before they continued their conversation.

His heart ached at the sight, and he had to look away when it felt as if he was intruding on a private moment, though the glimpse of Areida’s fond smile stayed with him as he tried to make sense of his sudden heartache. 

Why was he so affected by the look? He knew he didn’t harbor any feelings for Areida or Ella, even if he bore some affection for his friends. No, he thought, it must have something to do with how the two of them had looked at each other, how it appeared as if they were the only two people in the room despite the throng of people, how 

It struck him, then, that he had seen a similar look on Duncan’s face only mere hours ago, the man watching him fondly as Char pulled at his lapels in his sullen mood. How Duncan had looked at him when Char teased him ceaselessly, the man taking it in stride every time. How Duncan had humored and placated him when his mood took a turn for the maudlin when the anxiety got the better of him. How Duncan had wiped away his tears, promising Char that he would always be there for him.

The force of his realization struck him like a blow to the head, and he could only slump in his throne while he thought it over, disoriented at his discovery. Was this what Areida had meant when she spoke of love? Was Char in love with Duncan? Was that why he had felt such peace and happiness whenever the two of them absconded themselves to Char’s sanctuary by the stream? 

But then, how would he know if this is love? And if it is, then what?

“Your highness?”

Duncan’s sudden appearance startled Char so badly that he jumped in his seat. “I should’ve put some bells on you a long time ago,” Char said, heart in his throat as the man scrutinized him.

“My apologies for startling you,” Duncan said, though he didn’t look repentant at all when he smiled the way he did. 

Char huffed and turned to stare at the crowd to hide his embarrassment. “I was just thinking, is all. Why are you here?”

Duncan hummed as he looked out into the crowd as well, giving the appearance of someone who was merely watching the revelries. “Have you seen your uncle anywhere tonight?”

Char frowned, feeling uneasy at the reminder. “Well, last I saw him I think he was talking to the delegates from Davalon, but that was… an hour ago or so. I was otherwise occupied, so I can’t be sure.”

“Hmm, yes, you have been dancing for quite a while,” Duncan said, his tone showing his amusement. “I didn’t think you would enjoy yourself.” 

“Festivities,” Char said, shrugging. “They do tend to make you forget about your troubles for a time.” He frowned when he couldn’t find Edgar after a cursory scan of the crowd. “Where is he? Is he planning something?”

“He could be,” Duncan agreed. “But I think it’s likely that he’s enjoying himself tonight. He still has two days to carry out his plan, after all.”

“Still.” Char bit his lip, his stomach churning for a completely different reason now as he stole a glance at Duncan. “Uh, do you think we could leave for a bit? I need fresh air.”

Duncan turned his gaze to Char, assessing. “You look a bit flushed. Perhaps the private balcony, then? Sir Stephan mentioned he had someone positioned there just in case, so it should be safe.”

“Alright,” Char agreed, rising immediately and turning on his heels to make his way there, with Duncan as his constant silent shadow.

As soon as he stepped into the cool air outside, Char’s shoulders sag with relief. The double doors close behind them and the cacophony from the revelries died down immediately, leaving them enshrouded in the silence of the night.

Char stopped at the edge of the balcony, resting his arms on the ledge as he looked out at the vista beyond. The moonlight illuminated the courtyard and the fountain below them, the expanse of the castle grounds lying just beyond the gates to the royal gardens. This part of the castle was private, only for the use of the Royal family, and it was therefore blessedly silent and devoid of other people except for the one that mattered the most.

Duncan’s presence was a fleeting thing, though Char always knew he was there, could sense him somehow hovering just beyond Char’s reach. As he had always been. He wondered that he’d never given much thought to it before; how precarious their situation was, their… relationship, or lack thereof. Duncan was always there for him, his silent presence enough to give him comfort. In light of his discovery of his own murky feelings, might he have been taking advantage of Duncan all this time?

The moon above provided no answer to Char’s sudden emotional plight, but the sight of the vast sky above reminded him what Duncan had always wanted. What both of them wanted: To be free to pursue whatever their hearts warranted. And for Duncan, that was freedom. 

The reminder of that moment, of that conversation that seemed so long ago, was enough to clear Char’s head. The cool night air and the sounds of the trees rustling were calming, and Char let himself enjoy the moment for a few minutes.

Eventually, Duncan settled himself beside Char, the man looking out to the same sky. Though they were standing a few paces apart, Char imagined he could feel the warmth emanating from the man; a fancy that he indulged in as they stared out silently. 

“Are you feeling better now?” Duncan asked.

Char nodded. “Yes. It felt a little suffocating in there,” he replied by way of explanation.

“I’m glad.” Duncan shifted beside him and lowered his arms to the ledge, mirroring Char’s stance. “I believe you’ll be eighteen in less than an hour, by my count. You might need to return soon so your well-wishers can congratulate you.” 

“Oh, hearing you say that makes it feel even more surreal, after waiting for it for so long.” Char sighed. “I can’t wait for this to be over.” He allowed a beat of silence to pass before he turned to Duncan. “What do you think you’ll do after this? When everything’s… sorted out?”

Duncan’s preternatural stillness belied the frisson of uneasiness that descended upon them at Char’s question. If Char wasn’t closely looking at the older man, he was sure he would’ve missed the signs; the way Duncan was studiously avoiding his gaze, the tightening of the man’s gloved fingers against his arm, and the barely perceptible quirk at the corner of Duncan’s mouth told the true story. 

“I haven’t thought about it,” Duncan admitted reluctantly, looking uncomfortable at the line of questioning. 

“I thought you’d be excited.” Char smiled. “You’ll get your freedom soon enough, so I suppose you still have time to think about it. Travel the world, perhaps?”

The downturn of the man’s lips became more pronounced as Duncan turned to Char. “I had not thought of it because I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he said, the words coming out slowly but with certainty. “If I could bring you with me on my journey, I would. There’s so much more to life than being stuck in one kingdom, your highness.”

The words stung for a reason Char couldn’t quite describe, though there was also something blooming in his chest. Hope. 

“Well, that’s the life that’s been dealt for me, I’m afraid,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. He wondered if Duncan could hear the tremor in his voice. “Well, I think I’m heading back inside.”

“Char…” 

The plaintive way Duncan called his name was enough to stop him from pulling away from the ledge, his face burning at the realization that Duncan had rarely used his name. It was even rarer to hear him sound so uncertain, the man usually hiding behind his gruff manners. 

Char turned to Duncan then, his heart beating erratically when his eyes met Duncan’s. 

_Gods._ How had he never noticed the way Duncan looked at him before this? Now that he knew what to look for, the man’s fierce devotion to him was palpable. He had always attributed Duncan’s loyalty to the fact that the man felt responsible for his hand in Char’s helpless circumstances; after all, he could have escaped Kyrria and abandoned Char, a mere stranger to him.

But now… now it was clear that there was something else behind that intent stare of his. Char could hardly recall the times that they had been separated; he’d become used to Duncan’s constant presence that he’d paid no mind to the changes in Duncan’s behaviors, in the way the man had sought him out time and time again if he were to stray too far from him as if he couldn’t bear to be flung outside of Char’s orbit. 

“You know I will always be here for you, don’t you?” Duncan murmured, shifting closer, his gaze burning into Char’s. “I’ll be here until you cease to need me. I won’t leave your side until then.”

It felt like his heart was in his throat, and Char swallowed down his trepidation as he moved to close the distance between them— 

“Well, isn’t this a touching scene.”

The mocking drawl shattered the moment, and Char leaped away from Duncan when he recognized Edgar’s voice. 

Edgar was standing at the heavy wooden door, his back to it as if blocking the rest of the world from them. Two soldiers stood beside him, and it took Char a few seconds to realize that one of them was Bennett. Bennett, who had been a loyal member of the King’s Guard, who had stood outside the entrance to Char’s residence every other night to guard Char from any approaching danger. His heart dropped at the sight of them. 

Bennett’s steely gaze gave nothing away as he stood guard at the double panel doors. The other soldier merely stood on the other side of the door, his gaze shifting about the balcony. To ascertain that they were alone, perhaps.

Edgar smiled and walked towards them slowly, looking immensely pleased. 

“Here I was thinking it would be nice to offer you congratulations on reaching your eighteenth birthday,” Edgar drawled. “The rest of your subjects were wondering where the erstwhile prince was, and here he is, ignoring his kingdom in favor of his bodyguard.”

The last word was dripping with venom, especially with the way Edgar smiled malevolently at Duncan. 

“I always knew you were a foolish boy, Charmont,” Edgar continued, only stopping in his tracks when he stood several feet away from the two of them. “But this? This is a new level of foolishness I would never have expected of you.”

Char glared at Edgar then, letting his full hatred of his uncle show on his face. After being forced to smile and swallow his ire for the past year, it was satisfying to finally let go and show Edgar the full force of his loathing for the man. 

“What did you think would happen, uncle,” Char spat out, “when you’d deprived me of every other companion imaginable? Were you thinking that I would thank you for isolating me from the rest of my kingdom?”

Edgar scoffed, unperturbed. “Oh, Char. Do you think this is _your_ kingdom? Dear boy, none of this was ever yours. It was always meant to be mine, but of course, I had the unfortunate luck to be born after Florian. My dear, _perfect_ brother, may he rest in peace.”

Char snarled and lunged for Edgar then, though Duncan was quick to restrain him. “Don’t you _dare_ talk about my father after what you’ve done.”

Edgar smirked, not denying the accusation. Char wondered how he had never seen this side of his uncle until now; how meticulously he had hidden his hatred, back when Father and Mother were still alive, that none of them ever suspected him of his derision for them. 

“He was undeserving of the throne, Char,” Edgar said, shrugging minutely. “Thanks to him and your mother”—the scorn in Edgar’s tone was unmistakable—“this kingdom would be bankrupt in another decade or so. You should thank me for coming here to save it from your pathetic grasp.”

“At least they cared for the people!” Char replied, wishing that Duncan’s grip wasn’t so effective at restraining him. He would give everything to strike a blow against Edgar at that moment. “What have _you_ done lately? Dismantling all the good work that my parents have done, that’s what!” 

“Ah, young naïve boy,” Edgar sneered. “Truly, it pains me how little you know of how the world works. What will happen if the kingdom runs out of money? Do you think your beloved citizens wouldn’t turn against you? You are unpolished and young in your ways, and you must know deep inside that you’re unsuited to this life.” He smiled then, his gaze shifting between Duncan and Char. “Perhaps you both know this. Maybe I could interest you in a deal, hmm?”

Char frowned, though he stayed silent, Duncan’s grip on his arm a heavy, comforting weight. Beyond Edgar, Char could see the two guards approaching them silently before they stopped behind Edgar.

“What do you say, Charmont, if I tell you I would let you and your _friend_ here go?” Edgar said, the oily smile still plastered on his face. “On the condition that you make your way elsewhere, far, far away from Kyrria. Better still if you were to find yourselves in a different continent altogether.”

Duncan’s grasp on him tightened, and the reminder was enough to make Char straighten in his posture, all too aware of Duncan’s warning against accepting such a bargain.

“You won’t let us go,” Char replied, his voice certain though his heart stuttered where he stood, praying to all the deities that all would turn out alright despite his nervousness, his eyes darting to Bennett for a brief moment. “It won’t be as easy as disappearing. You’d let Damocles know Duncan has turned against you, and the two of us would be fugitive within hours of our disappearance. Come, uncle, I thought we’d gotten past the lies.”

Edgar sighed. “Ah, so you are at least a bit smart, after all. A pity. I would’ve let you live for a week, at least.” He dropped the pretense of a smile then, nodding to Bennett and the other soldier in the next second. “Seize them, on the grounds of dereliction of duty and for misuse of the treasury.”

Char snarled, “You filthy _liar—_ ” 

The next few seconds passed by in a blur of movement and activity as Duncan finally released Char, only to pull him bodily to avoid the approaching soldiers. Char could only cry out his protest when Duncan forged ahead, though he stayed where he was when it became apparent that he was better off staying out of the scuffle. 

At first, Char thought Duncan was fighting with both soldiers, but it became clear that wasn’t the case in the next few seconds. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the sight of Duncan and Bennett grappling with the other soldier, who appeared shocked when Bennett pinned him to the floor. The soldier finally ceased his struggle when Bennett held a sword to his throat, Bennett nodding to Char as a signal. Char returned the nod before he sought Duncan out.

In the time it took for Char to find him, Duncan had somehow lunged towards a very surprised Edgar, who had backed away in fear when it became apparent that Bennett had turned against him. Unfortunately for Edgar, he didn’t manage to escape fast enough before Duncan came upon him in a swift movement.

It was satisfying to hear the groan Edgar let out when he fell to the ground, Duncan’s weight settling heavily on Edgar’s before Duncan pulled back his hand and striking Edgar’s face. There was a sickening and unmistakable sound of something snapping, and Char’s stomach turned when he realized Duncan had probably broken Edgar’s nose.

Sure enough, when Char rushed to Duncan’s side, Edgar was groaning and covering his blood-soaked face with his hands, the man letting out an enraged wail when he’d realized what had happened.

Edgar growled at Duncan then, his feet kicking to dislodge Duncan off him. “You pathetic, useless, no-name—” 

In between the scuffles and Char trying to hold Duncan back, he barely noticed that someone had opened the doors to the banquet hall until he heard a splitting shriek that reverberated through the area. There were too many things to keep track of then, and suddenly Char was surrounded by the entire King’s Guard unit, one of them blocking Char’s view of what was happening.

“Wait,” Char cried out, struggling against the guards holding him back. “Tell Duncan to pull back—” 

Someone was talking to him, though in Char’s panic he couldn’t quite make out who. “Your highness, please stay back, we’ll handle this—” 

“—unhand me, you _traitors,_ how dare you—” 

“—Prince Char! Are you— no, stay back, he’s _fine_ —”

“—don’t, I need to get to Duncan—” 

“Sir Edgar of Kyrria, you are arrested on suspicion of treason—” 

An enraged wail resounded throughout the courtyard, Edgar finally losing his battle with rationality. “How _dare you,_ after all I’ve given to Kyrria, you insolent fools, how dare—”

“You have the right to remain silent until such time you can be given a fair trial—” 

Edgar let out a disbelieving laughter. “You think I need a fair trial? _A fair trial?_ You should arrest your fool of a prince—” 

The rest of Edgar’s words cut off into a pained cry and stunned silence, and when Char finally moved past his guards, it was to the sight of Duncan pulling back his bloodied fist from Edgar’s face. Evidently, Duncan had gotten another punch in. 

The sight of it was so comical that it made Char laugh in relief, though he kept his composure about him when he saw that there had been a lot more audience since the doors were kicked open. 

Beyond the doors, there were a lot of curious patrons who were trying to break through the barricade of guards who were holding them back from storming the scene. Certainly, no one would have expected the sight of Kyrria’s regent being pummelled by a man garbed in all-black garments, while the prince and his guards flanked the unlikely scene.

Sir Stephan stepped forward to pull Duncan back from Edgar, deeming the once-regent a non-threat now that his lies had been exposed. “Thank you, Duncan, for your assistance,” he said, tone dry and full of meaning. “I believe we can take over for now.”

Duncan scoffed with derision, though he let himself be pulled away from Edgar, who was still groaning in pain on the floor. Stephan, uncaring for the groans, repeated his recitation of Edgar’s rights, ignoring the din of the crowd beyond the barricaded banquet hall.

Relief flooded through Char when he saw Duncan was uninjured; he hadn’t doubted the man for a second, but there was always a lingering apprehension that everything could be torn away from him at this precarious second.

Emboldened by the fact that Edgar had been subdued, however, Char stepped forward and squeezed Duncan’s arm as he passed by the man, trying to reassure Duncan without words with his gaze and touch alone. Duncan’s face softened at the touch, the man giving him a relieved smile as Char pulled away and approached Stephan. 

In all his hubris, Edgar had only brought two soldiers to catch Char and Duncan by surprise, not knowing that there was a greater plot brewing behind the scenes. Edgar had grown complacent, and it showed in the arrogant way he spoke over Char mere minutes ago, at how confident he was that Char had been effectively isolated from everyone in the kingdom except for the strange outsiders. 

Triumphant at last, after a year of being mistreated, lied to, patronized, and talked over, Char merely smiled at the image of his uncle, bloodied and defeated, wanting to commit it to memory. 

Once Stephan concluded his delivery, Char nodded to his uncle and widened his smile.

“I thank you for the forethought of holding this ball on the eve of my eighteenth birthday, uncle. I hope you don’t mind if we continue our celebrations. I will see you at your trial.”


	5. Chapter 5

The resulting fallout from Edgar’s downfall was predictably wearisome. 

The first night of Char’s birthday celebration went on beyond midnight, the hours bleeding together as Char found himself thrust into the spotlight once it came out that Edgar was behind the assassination plan to take over the throne for himself. A furor went through the ball at the news, and by the time the last of the stragglers were ushered out of the castle, the information had cascaded down to every single attendee of the ball. No doubt the news would then make its way to the rest of the kingdom in the next few days.

When it was all over, Char had lost track of the time, but he assumed that at least a few hours had passed since Edgar’s plan backfired on him rather spectacularly. Areida and Ella were hovering at the bottom of the staircase to the castle entrance, both of them waiting for their chariot to come while Char stood by their side to wave them off.

“I’m thrilled things have worked out for you, Char,” Areida murmured when she pulled him into a hug. She smiled widely as she pulled away, squeezing his shoulders. “And I’m especially glad that both of you are unharmed,” she continued, giving a meaningful and fleeting glance to Duncan, who was hovering at the top of the stairs, watching their little group from afar.

Char’s face colored at the insinuation, but he didn’t rush to deny her light teasing. “Thank you, Areida, Ella. The two of you have been so helpful throughout all this. I will miss our plotting hours.”

Ella laughed. “So will I. I’ve never had so much excitement as I did in the last few weeks.” She smiled at Char and curtsied. “I wish you well in your endeavors, your highness. And of course, you know you can call us to your aid if you think you need excellent advisors,” she said with a cheeky smile.

“That I do,” Char replied, chuckling.

Areida looked at him intently, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “Promise me you’ll think about… you know, the thing we talked about?”

Char pursed his lips and nodded. “I’ll write to you once I’m free from all this mess.”

Areida smiled and pulled away, letting Ella steer the two of them to their approaching chariot. “I’ll see you later, then. Oh, and happy birthday, Char!”

Char waved to them until they were gone from sight, and then he was left alone with Duncan and Stephan waiting for him at the castle entrance. He made his way to Stephan first, surprising the man when he pulled him in for a tentative hug. It was a brief embrace, and Stephan squeezed him in reassurance as Char pulled away.

“Thank you, Sir Stephan,” Char said, beaming at the man. “I don’t know how much more effusive I can be with my gratitude, but I hope you know that you and your family will always have a place in my court. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Stephan smiled widely, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes becoming more pronounced at Char’s words. “Of course, your highness. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to serve you and your family.”

Char nodded in thanks, watching Stephan leave until he disappeared from his sight. When he turned to Duncan next, the man was silently watching him, looking wary for a reason. 

Clearing his throat, Char gestured to Duncan’s bloodied knuckle. “Would you mind coming to my chambers? I’d like to have a look at your wound.”

Duncan frowned. “Your highness, that would be unnecessary. I’m hardly wounded—”

Char stepped closer to the man, laying a hand over Duncan’s and looking up at the man before muttering, “Please.” 

Whatever Duncan saw in Char’s expression, he relented and let himself be led to Char’s residence. 

Once inside, Char commanded Duncan to take a seat at the ottoman at the end of his bed. He worried Duncan would disappear if he didn’t expressly instruct him to stay, somehow. He moved swiftly through his chamber to cut to the washroom, gathering a cloth and a washbasin, filling it with water before he returned to Duncan.

Duncan had remained on the bed, and he’d taken care to take off his shoes, his outerwear, and the gloves he’d been wearing ever since Char could remember. It was a strange sight; Duncan looked almost defenseless without his coat covering up the rest of his attire. It was also quite distracting to see the fitted attire under the coat after all this time; the material doing nothing to hide Duncan’s physique.

The sound of Duncan clearing his throat brought Char out of his momentary distraction, and Char’s face burned when he met Duncan’s raised eyebrow. Ignoring the questioning look, Char made his way to the ottoman and set the washbasin between them, dampening the cloth with the water before he raised it to Duncan’s knuckle.

Throughout all this, Duncan merely stared at him, letting Char take hold of his hand. Heartened by Duncan’s silent acceptance, Char grasped Duncan’s hand in his, marveling that this was the first time their hands had touched without the barrier of Duncan’s gloves between them. 

He savored the warmth of Duncan’s hand as he wiped the damp cloth against the man’s knuckle, swiping it several times before wringing out the cloth and repeating the motion until he was sure there was no blood left. There were only minor cuts on Duncan’s knuckles, which Char smiled at. Obviously, Duncan didn't require his full strength to land a few blows on Edgar. 

Duncan remained silent throughout Char’s ministration. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Char murmured once he’d set the used cloth inside the washbasin. He swallowed the lump in his throat and lifted his head to meet Duncan’s eyes. “That you love me?”

Duncan stared at him for a moment, face devoid of emotion. His throat worked before he haltingly spoke. “As much as I can love anyone. Though I didn’t think it was my place to tell you so, your highness.”

“Don’t,” Char entreated. “Don’t hide behind my title.”

At that, Duncan’s jaw twitched. It took several moments for his posture to loosen in its stiffness, and when he looked to Char again, there was a soft smile on his face. 

“It’s… impossible for me to see you anything other than you, Char,” Duncan said. 

“How long?” Char asked breathlessly. “How long have you loved me?”

Duncan huffed a laugh. “I can’t pinpoint it to an exact moment, Char.”

Char grinned, something like happiness blooming inside him. “Say it again.”

A momentary confusion stole over Duncan’s face, though an understanding smile replaced it when he realized what Char had meant. “Char.”

That, at last, was the catalyst. 

That was the moment Char knew that there can be no one else for him, his heart aching at the sound of his name upon those lips. There was no telling who made the first move, but there was no doubt left as to their affection for each other when they rushed to close the distance between them.

The kiss was like nothing Char had imagined before, much less experience. Of course, he’d daydreamed of these kinds of things happening to him one day, though those daydreams had been few once his parents had passed away. When he did eventually experience the few occasional wet dreams (something which he was still somewhat ashamed of), he couldn’t recall his dreams or who had been starring in them.

Perhaps it was just as well that he’d had no experience to compare to. He was sure that nothing could beat the feeling of finally doing this with someone he was thoroughly in love with, of having his love reciprocated.

The soft kisses soon turned into a more thorough exploration as Duncan coaxed Char’s lips open, his tongue delving inside Char in a split second. Char groaned into the kiss, rushing forward and settling himself onto Duncan’s lap to seek more of his warmth, uncaring as the washbasin toppled messily onto the floor in his haste to get to Duncan.

“Leave it, leave it,” Char pleaded when it looked as if Duncan was pulling away to clear the mess. 

Duncan managed a huff of laughter, though it sounded strained. “I was going to suggest we move to bed. Though I wouldn’t mind if we stayed this way, either.” This last part was punctuated with an obscene grind when Duncan pulled Char by his backside to slot their bodies even closer together.

Char couldn’t control the groan of need when he felt the bulge against his thighs, the sensation oddly erotic in its depravity. He could only nod silently, face burning in embarrassment when he thought too closely at what was about to happen. Though he wasn’t completely in the dark when it came to carnal relationships, he’d never given much thought to it. The reality swept over him slowly, and he was almost dizzy with his need to get closer to Duncan.

Duncan seemed to sense his nervousness, the man smiling softly as he wove his hand into Char’s curls. “We need not do this now, Char,” he said, giving Char a chaste kiss. “I’m perfectly content to wait until you’re ready.”

Char shook his head, kissing Duncan more insistently. “I want it,” he admitted in a small voice, hating the way his face heated with his admission. 

“Then we’ll take it slow,” Duncan replied, smiling softly. “I’ll take care of you, Char.”

Char melted again at the use of his name, the sound of it even more addictive now that Duncan had allowed himself to use it. “Take me to bed.”

Duncan surged up for a kiss, wrapping his arms around Char’s waist before picking him up with a large, sweeping movement. Char let out an undignified yelp when Duncan lifted him, his arms tightening around Duncan’s shoulders. Whatever he was about to say was gone in the next second when Duncan threw him onto the bed, the older man quickly slotting himself against Char and kissing him senseless once more.

Char arched into the touch, wrapping his arms around Duncan to pull him closer as the two of them rutted against each other. The friction was uncomfortable at first, but Char couldn’t pull away, wanting nothing more than the feeling of Duncan against him. 

Duncan’s mustache made him laugh in the next moment, causing Duncan to pull away, an eyebrow arched to show he was unimpressed. 

“Something funny, Char?” 

Char chuckled, though he let out a gasp when Duncan didn’t stop moving. “Just… your mustache… tickled for a bit— _oh,_ don’t stop.” 

Duncan chuckled as well. “Well, that can’t be helped, though I would gladly shave it for you.”

“No, no,” Char said, placing a hand on Duncan’s cheek. “I like it. But I think I’d like you better if we’re a little less clothed right now.”

Duncan huffed with laughter, his smile widening into a grin. Taking the hint, he undressed himself with haste, Char laughing at the telltale sound of something ripping. 

“Eager, are we?” he teased, though his teasing ceased when he saw Duncan’s nude body for the first time, his eyes widening first at the novelty of it, and then with concern when he saw the scars scattered across Duncan’s skin. “Duncan…”

Duncan held his body still then, letting Char reach out to trace the scar on his chest, the faint line running from his chest to his belly. Though he knew Duncan must have had a terrible childhood, with what he went through with Damocles, he didn’t know the extent of it until this moment. It ignited something in him, his rage rising against the offenders.

Char turned his attention to Duncan’s face again, his hands shaking as he slowly worked to loosen the strap around Duncan’s head. The reveal of the man’s scarred eye inspired awe in him for an inexplicable reason. Perhaps it was the fact that such a powerful man who had mercilessly killed others was allowing him this; allowing Char to see him in his entirety.

They stayed that way for a few moments, Char mapping the scars on Duncan’s body silently as if trying to memorize everything. Duncan wrapped his hand around Char’s wrist eventually, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. 

“It was a long time ago, Char,” Duncan said, his tone placating. He returned Char’s hand to his side, and his fingers traveled to the collar of Char’s tunic. “Your turn now, I think.”

Char smiled and nodded. There would be more time for him to map out Duncan’s scars later, to ask him what had happened to him. For now, he intended to enjoy the moment. Duncan’s hands made quick work of divesting Char of his clothes, Char laughing again when the embellished lapels on his tunic were ripped rather savagely when it proved cumbersome.

“Aldith would be very displeased to know what you’ve done to all her hard work,” Char said in between laughter. 

Duncan’s only answer was a growl and another conquering kiss when they were both finally bare to one another. This time, they moaned in unison with the slide of skin against skin, Char sighing into the kisses bestowed upon him. Nothing could have prepared him for the sensations flooding into him at Duncan’s insistent touches and the man’s mouth on his skin. He was overwhelmed in the best ways, Duncan’s weight a comforting warmth against him.

When Duncan finally took Char into his mouth, it was all that Char could do not to writhe underneath the man, his body arching desperately into the warmth of Duncan’s mouth. 

“Duncan,” Char cried out, his hands grasping the sheets beneath him, his toes curling with pleasure. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come,” he stuttered in between gasps for air.

In answer, Duncan only took him in deeper, his fingers digging into Char’s thighs to hold him down. Char came with a cry then, his eyes falling shut as his orgasm wracked through him. Duncan continued to suck him through it, though he stopped when Char whimpered from the continued stimulation.

Char was still catching his breath when Duncan sidled back to him, a smug smile on his face when Char opened his eyes. That got a weak laugh out of him. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“Nothing else could bring me this much pleasure,” Duncan murmured, wiping the sweat off Char’s brows. 

“You didn’t even…” Char’s eyes went down to Duncan’s erection meaningfully. “I told you to take me, Duncan.”

“It’s early yet,” Duncan teased, though there was still a hint of concern playing across his face. 

“Duncan,” Char sighed, pulling the man in for a kiss and tasting himself on his tongue. It was oddly obscene, the aftertaste foreign on his tongue. “I’m telling you I want it.”

Duncan relented into the kiss and sighed, defeated. “Do you have any oil? Or lotion?” 

Char directed Duncan to the chest by his bedside, rolling his eyes at Duncan’s knowing smile. Char wouldn’t admit out loud that he’d masturbated a few times whenever the mood struck him, though it seemed he didn’t need to. 

Wanting to wipe that smile off his face, Char took Duncan in his hand, though he cursed softly when his hand wrapped around Duncan’s girth. It was bigger than he’d imagined, though he pushed away his trepidation by stroking Duncan gently, watching the way Duncan’s face fell slack with pleasure before long. 

“Are you sure you want me inside you?” Duncan growled through gritted teeth. “I won’t last much longer if you continue that.” 

“Already?” Char teased.

Duncan huffed out a surprised laugh. “Char, you have no idea how I’ve longed to do this to you.”

And well, no one could blame Char for the resulting arousal at those words. “Then do it,” he murmured, letting his hands fall away to the bed. 

It took Duncan some time to prepare him, though Char couldn’t complain when the man kept on pressing his fingers against a spot inside him, sending sparks behind his tightly shut eyes. Char moaned through it all, barely aware of how much time had passed by the time Duncan slipped his fingers out. Much to his own surprise, he’d gotten hard again under Duncan’s insistent touches. 

“The wonders of youth,” Duncan muttered, chuckling when he saw Char’s surprise. “Are you ready, Char?”

“Wasn’t that the whole point of all that?” Char huffed.

Duncan let out another chuckle as he positioned himself between Char’s legs, his hands running across Char’s thighs soothingly. “Just relax and breathe.”

There was nothing to say to that other than to obey. Char bore with it as much as he could. He’d expected pain instead of the odd feeling of something intruding inside him, and he adjusted to the feeling soon enough. Duncan had prepared him perfectly, it seemed, and the man smiled in obvious satisfaction at the gasp Char let out when he finally bottomed out inside.

“Gods, I feel so full,” Char breathed out, eyes fluttering closed and gasping when Duncan moved. 

And _oh,_ that sent a frisson of excitement and pleasure through him. Duncan’s girth stroked him inside while Duncan laid himself over Char’s willing body, the two of them entwined together in rhythmic motions. It was mystifying how their meeting culminated into this. Nothing could have prepared him for the feelings overwhelming him at the realization that he is very much in love with this man. 

In that moment, there was only this: The taste of Duncan’s sweat as Char moaned into his shoulder, the sounds of their slick bodies joining together in a rising crescendo, the caress of Duncan’s skin against his, the scrape of Duncan’s teeth on his throat, and the cries spilling out of their lips as they found their release within each other’s embrace.

In that moment, there was no need for him to be anything other than Char for the man he loved. 

When Char awoke the next day, it was to the sound of a shocked gasp and something clattering against the floor of his sleeping chamber. 

Char blinked blearily and raised his head to the sight of his chambermaid, Lucia, trying to compose herself as she picked up the tray that had fallen in her surprise. 

“Oh, Lucia,” Char groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and sitting up in bed. “Good morning.”

“Uh, good morning, your highness,” Lucia answered, her eyes darting from Char to a corner of Char’s bed. 

Char turned confusedly to see what had caused Lucia to look at him as if he’d grown two heads overnight. His confusion was immediately explained by the sight of Duncan still asleep beside him.

_Oh. Well, that would do it._

Char smiled at Lucia. “Oh, have you met Duncan?” he asked, feigning a bright smile to overcome the awkward situation. 

Judging by Lucia’s resulting uncomfortable smile, he may have overdid his. She peered curiously at Duncan, however, her smile turning genuine as she turned back towards Char. 

“From all the stories last night, I’d expected a larger man,” Lucia said in a conspiratorial manner, smiling when Char laughed.

“I suppose everyone has heard of him after last night.”

“Oh yes,” Lucia agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “There were all sorts of stories since then, your highness. Was it true that he beat everyone else to a bloody pulp by his bare hands?”

Char chuckled. “It’s a variation of the truth, but yes, something like that did happen.”

“Ah, he’s so brave,” Lucia cooed. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t know what to make of him following you around all this while, but I see now he’s a great man. He’s a right hero, going by his actions last night.” She grinned at him. “Does he take good care of you?”

The laugh that came out of him was more embarrassed than amused, though he took the comment in stride. Lucia had been with him since he was ten; there was no keeping anything from the woman, and she’d treated him as if he were her own child. It was only fair that he treated her with the same kindness she’d shown him.

“He’s a good man,” Char said simply, smiling softly as he caressed a stray lock on Duncan’s forehead. 

“Good,” Lucia replied, her expression softening at the sight. “Well, pardon my intrusion, your highness, I was just here to say that breakfast is ready in your dining parlor.” She frowned. “Do I need to bring some extra for Sir Duncan?”

Char shook his head, laughing a little. “No, that won’t be necessary, but thank you, as always, Lucia.”

Lucia smiled and curtsied before she left in a hurry, no doubt to spread the word to her closest friends about her findings this morning. Char didn’t have it in him to care of the repercussions at the moment, especially when he could feel Duncan stirring awake by his side. 

“Good morning,” Char said, smiling. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the way Duncan glanced at the space Lucia had just vacated, suspiciously alert for someone who’d just woken up. “Wait, have you been awake this whole time?”

Duncan huffed, settling back into the pillows when it was apparent that Lucia had left. “I may have been,” he replied, voice still gruff from sleep. “Wouldn’t do for someone to sneak up on you in bed.”

Char’s brow cleared, and he let out a disbelieving laugh. “Now hold on. Did you pretend to be asleep because you didn’t want to talk to her?”

Duncan’s grunt didn’t resemble a word, but Char took it for a yes.

“I can’t believe you’re scared of an old lady trying to talk to you,” Char said, his shoulders shaking with his laughter. “You were laughing at me when some ladies accosted me every time, but you can’t even talk to my chambermaid!”

“It’s easier to kill people than to talk to them,” Duncan replied gruffly, still avoiding Char’s gaze.

“I’m sure it is,” Char said with another snort of laughter. “If only she could’ve seen you just now, scared of what a bunch of old ladies would say to him— Duncan, what are you doing? No, stop— oh… mmhh, don’t stop… Duncan, _ah_ —” 

Half an hour later found them still in bed, though Char couldn’t even complain about it when he’d never felt more sated than he had in the past twelve hours. And the rest of the world could hardly fault them for rising at such a late hour after what had transpired last night. Staying in bed with Duncan was much more preferable to facing what was waiting for them outside of his chambers, so for now, he contented himself by lying next to Duncan’s warm body, letting the man sift his hand through his curls. 

“I like the sound of Sir Duncan,” Char said, breaking the contented silence. 

Duncan’s hand paused momentarily in its motion, though he continued with a considering hum. “And what brought this on?”

“Don’t you think you deserved a title after what you have done?” Char asked, eyes still closed, basking in the comfort of Duncan’s touch. 

“I defer to your expertise.”

“Try to sound less excited about it, I dare you.”

Duncan snorted. “I’ve never had those kinds of desire. Power was not something I sought.” 

“It’s… well, it’s not really a matter of power.” Char sighed, opening his eyes and craning his neck to seek Duncan’s eyes. In the afternoon light, the scarred eye looked harsher, though Char felt nothing but fondness at the sight of it. He surged up to kiss it softly before falling back onto the pillows. “I have a selfish motive to suggest it.”

Duncan raised his brows at that. “Oh? Do tell.”

Char swallowed harshly before he confessed, “I want you to stay with me. For as long as you’ll have me.”

The hand in Char’s curls stilled, and Duncan turned to look at Char more fully, his expression inscrutable. “Char…” 

“It’s just…” Char sighed. “I know you wanted freedom, but… I’m selfish, Duncan. I love you, and, well, I need you to be here with me even though I know how much you were looking forward for this assignment to be over.”

Duncan smiled and cupped Char’s cheek, then, the touch soft and firm. “Char, I don’t need promises of a title or wealth to stay by your side. I thought you knew that.”

“Well, of course I do, but it’s nice if you have them, don’t you think?”

“Char,” Duncan admonished, though he was laughing now. He let out a sigh, his brow creasing with a sudden realization. “There is something… I’m worried that you would become a target for Damocles should I choose to stay.”

Char laughed bitterly at the reminder of the organization that had stolen Duncan’s childhood. “Well, let them come. What can they do after Edgar had been dispatched so publicly? They can’t come to us to air their dirty laundries and risk the entire kingdom finding out about their manipulations. They would only have stealth on their side, now that we know what we’re dealing with. And I have the highest confidence in my Royal Guard’s ability to protect us both, don’t you?”

Duncan still looked uncertain, though he didn’t object when Char took his hand in his. 

“Will you stay?” Char asked. He hated how timid he sounded, how his voice trembled at the question. He knew Duncan loved him, but even that was not enough to keep away the thought that Duncan might abandon him someday. 

“Char,” Duncan murmured, giving Char a chaste kiss before sighing. “I could never resist you. I would love nothing more than to stay by your side, provided you will have me.”

Char beamed, apprehension giving way to relief and happiness at that. “Didn’t I already say that I want you, Duncan?”

“Vizla.”

Char wrinkled his nose, puzzled. “What? Should I be blessing you right now?” 

“My last name.” Duncan smiled.

“I thought you said you didn’t—” 

“I’ve always remembered my last name and where I came from,” Duncan told him. “But Damocles was very insistent that we drop everything but our first name when we agreed to follow them.”

Char narrowed his eyes at the anger swelling inside him. “One of these days, I’m going to find Damocles and give them a piece of my mind.”

Duncan chuckled fondly, stroking Char’s cheek with a soft smile on his face. “I don’t doubt that you would lay the men to rest with your fierce ways, Char.”

This time, Char narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man’s teasing tone. “Are you making fun of me? Because I’ll have you know—” 

Duncan laughed, smothering Char with several well-placed kisses to distract him for the next few minutes. 

“I don’t care what anyone says,” Char declared in between kisses. “I’m keeping you, Duncan Vizla.”

Char only received another round of lovemaking after that for all his trouble, though he couldn’t complain if all troubles brought him such happiness and pleasure. 

  
  


####  **\--Epilogue-- pt. 2?**

“No, no, Ella, listen to me,” Char said, laughing and shaking his head, “you can’t be serious! If you do this, you know the nobles are going to riot.”

“Well, let them,” Ella replied with a quelling look, unperturbed. “They’ve been sitting high and mighty in their positions for so long, what’s it to them if we raise the taxes on their grain and livestock productions? Did you know that their livestock practices are also endangering some pastures in the land, with how overly productive they are?” 

Char sighed. “I agree with you, Ella, you know that. But the amount of taxation alone would have them storming the castle, and that’s the opposite of what we need. We’ve already introduced several changes for the past few months, and everyone is still adjusting to it. In time, even the nobles will accept the merits of our policies when they can see the fruits of our labor. But for now, it’s too rash to start taxation on this massive scale at such an extreme amount.” He smiled at her. “I know you want the best for this kingdom, so do I. But I’d caution that we start small before we gradually make our changes. Would you agree if we lower it to this amount, with the provision that we would raise it to this amount in the next five years?”

Ella frowned and looked at what Char had written on the parchment. She glared at Char as she took her abacus to begin a series of calculations, concentrated on her task. 

Seeing Ella’s preoccupation, Char turned to Areida next to him. “Thank you for all your help or lack thereof,” he said through the corner of his mouth.

Areida barely looked up from the legal texts she was perusing as she replied cheerfully, “I knew you could handle her. You’ve certainly learned a lot.”

“I heard that,” came Ella’s waspish tone from across the table, the abacus beads clacking more forcefully at the perceived slight. 

Char rolled his eyes, though he returned to his reading, shifting through parchments and books to gauge the state of their treasury. In the past year, there had indeed been many changes to the running of the kingdom once Edgar was swiftly dealt with and the kingdom could return to its normal, unexciting state. Char thought he much preferred the monotony to a dull life rather than living on borrowed time every day.

Of course, things weren’t so monotonous these days, not with Areida and Ella around pushing him to enact some changes to the running of Kyrria. He hadn’t planned on so many drastic changes within the next few months, but he had to concede that a lot of the laws enacted had to be refined or overturned altogether, thanks to Edgar’s machinations. 

Areida had proven herself to be a useful boon to Kyrria, bringing fresh insights and different perspectives from an Ayorthian point of view. Ayortha was more egalitarian than he had thought possible. Ayortha’s royal family was so well-loved that most of the Ayorthians were happy to have the monarchs and the proletariat council working side-by-side in the rulings of the kingdom. Intrigued, Char had plans to visit Ayortha soon to find out more of the system, provided he could ensure Kyrria was stable enough to spare him for a month. 

Stephan had proven to be a worthy ally in this sense. He had given Char his insights which nobles and advisors could be trusted while Char rebuilt his kingdom from the inside out. Repairing his relationships with his advisors and noblemen would likely take him several months still; trust was a tenuous thing between the court and its king, and Char couldn’t blame them for their distrust, not after the masterful way Edgar had manipulated them all. 

Once they have dealt with that particular issue, Char could look forward to the upcoming trip to Ayortha, not only for the opportunity to visit his mother’s country of birth but also because of the other aspect of his relationship with Areida.

Char had given some thoughts to Areida’s proposal for some time, and though he balked at the thought of a marriage of convenience, he’d always known in some ways that this would always be a possibility for marriages within the royal circles. As Areida had astutely noted, the two of them do not have the leisure of choosing who they could marry. 

He could only imagine the furor he would cause should he inform his advisors that he would marry Duncan — he knew it would be an impossibility. Not only was Duncan no one of importance in their minds (even if they were suitably impressed with Duncan’s role in all this), their union wouldn’t be able to do its part to provide an heir to the throne. It was a distasteful thought, to have to marry someone based on their fortunes, power, and ability to conceive. Something that Char was determined to look into later if only to provide a better future for the upcoming generation. 

As it was, Char had to accept the fact that, for the time being, he could not marry as he wished and that Areida had a point.

Hence, the trip to Ayortha.

The trip came to fruition almost three months later, which was more than Char could have hoped. He had left Kyrria with the satisfaction of knowing that the kingdom would do well with Stephan, Ella, and Char’s closest and most trusted advisors in place. 

It was perhaps an impetuous plan, but Stephan and Lord Thierry, his most senior advisor, had been convinced that the trip was necessary when they learned of Char and Areida’s plan.

Duncan, however, might be harder to persuade. 

“If I can summarize my understanding,” Duncan said after he’d listened to Char’s explanation, tone dry and withering, “you and Princess Areida are planning to get married, and this trip to Ayortha would be the means of getting her parents to consent? And you want _me_ to accompany you on this voyage?”

Char nodded patiently, watching Duncan’s placid expression and wondering if the scrunch of his eyebrows meant he was disgusted or angry. Or maybe he was trying to make sense of what Char was thinking. It was endearing as much as it was frustrating to figure out the man’s thoughts.

They were enjoying a drink in Char’s privy chamber that evening after dinner, the two of them sitting opposite each other as they nursed their drink. Char thought that loosening the man by plying him with alcohol might make him more… accepting of the subject. 

“Why?” Duncan settled on, curiosity winning over distaste. “I’m only surprised since I thought that Areida is in love with Ella.”

“She is,” Char laughed. “I didn’t know you knew.”

Duncan gave him a disbelieving look. “It was rather obvious.”

“Is it? Maybe it is to someone like you,” Char mused, giving another embarrassed laugh. “Though if I’m honest, it took Areida telling me so before I realized you were probably in love with me… and that I was too.”

Duncan let out a long-suffering sigh, Char so used to the expression that he couldn’t help but snort at it. “I did wonder if you’d ever notice. Though to be fair, I worked very hard at concealing my feelings for you.”

Char frowned. “Why would you hide such things from me?”

“I was content to be by your side without it being nothing more, Char, you must have known that. I had no hope that you would ever return my feelings.” Duncan sighed. “I suppose this is exactly why. I knew that one day you would have to marry someone else.”

Char swallowed the lump in his throat, overcome by the thought that Duncan had opted to sacrifice his feelings in consideration of Char’s status. “Duncan… I’m not suggesting it because I’m in love with her. I’m… you know I love you, don’t you? But well, I know I have my duties and responsibilities as the remaining heir to Kyrria, and one of them is the obligation to continue our lineage.”

Duncan sighed and sat up straighter against the pillows. “I understand. When should I be expecting your nuptials?”

Char shrugged and took a few sips of his ale. “Not that soon,” he replied at length. “Areida and I agreed that we’re still too young to get married, especially with the state of Kyrria at the moment. We need only be engaged with the intent that we would one day complete the union a few years down the road.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes at Char’s admission. Duncan looked pensive as he stared at Char, and Char let him look his fill. The warmth traveling through his body could because of the ale, or it could also be because of the way Duncan was looking at him. Intensely possessive. An involuntary shudder went through him at the thought, the pleasant warmth spreading through his entire being. 

Char licked his lips, trying to find the right words to convince Duncan that the marriage would change nothing between them; Char wouldn’t let it.

“Though I would love to marry you,” Char said, licking his lips, “I don’t think my subjects or advisors would look kindly on me because of my position. This marriage is… a convenient arrangement for me and Areida. We would both get to pursue what we want and love who we love, and the kingdom couldn’t fault us for it if they remain prosperous.” Char sighed and met Duncan’s eyes. “Areida and I would only be married in name. I’m always yours, you know that, don’t you?”

The possessive gaze softened, Duncan’s shoulders visibly relaxing at the confession. His gaze didn’t waver, and a small smile finally grazed the corner of his lips after a moment of consideration. 

“I’ve told you before I’m selfish, Char,” Duncan replied, looking resigned. “But I don’t think I can leave you now, truth be told. I could, but it would be foolish of me to torture myself with the separation.”

Relief and fondness flooded Char at the confession, and he set his mug of ale aside before he made his way to Duncan. The older man merely watched when Char took his mug out of his hand to set it aside as well, his expression going from intrigued to pleased when Char settled himself over Duncan’s lap. 

Smiling, Char ran his thumb softly over the eyepatch, barely grazing the cloth. “Thank you,” he said. “I know it’s not the most… ideal arrangement. I would prefer to marry you if I had the freedom of choice.”

Duncan smiled and pulled Char closer, his hands upon Char’s wrists a heavy, reassuring weight. A simple touch to remind Char who he belonged to. “I knew what I was getting into, I suppose, when I fell in love with you. I was happy to stay by your side without it escalating into anything resembling this.”

And well, that deserved a kind of reward. Char leaned forward and pressed his lips against Duncan’s, the kiss deepening when Duncan wound his palm into Char’s nape. The press of his fingers over Char’s skin felt like a burning mark, and a fever swept through Char at the thought of Duncan leaving a lasting mark on him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t want this, though it was too late for him, at any rate. To go through the rest of his life without Duncan by his side was unthinkable now. The two of them had gone through so much together that it had created an unbreakable bond; only death could separate them now, and Char would do anything in his power to ensure that the severance of their bond would come much later in his life.

When Char pulled away, he smiled at the sight of Duncan’s disheveled look. Char’s fingers had entangled themselves in Duncan’s hair rather insistently during their kiss, and there was a faint flush on Duncan’s cheeks that was rather becoming on him. A rare look, that. 

Duncan was studying Char in turn, the small smile still on his face as he stroked Char’s cheek. Char leaned into it, just as he had every time Duncan touched him in this manner, soft and reverent, as if Char were precious.

“I’ve traded my freedom to stay by your side, Char,” Duncan murmured, his thumb tracing over the seam of Char’s lips. “I can’t pretend that the thought of you being married to someone else won’t hurt, but… they will be married to you in name only, and I will have the satisfaction of knowing that in the evenings and well into the night, you are mine and mine alone.” 

Char smiled and turned his lips towards the palm of Duncan’s hand, giving the flesh a soft kiss. “And I have the pleasure of knowing that you are mine and mine alone.”

In the end, Char thought as he leaned in for another kiss, wasn’t that the whole point of this thing called love? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, the epilogue and some other brain things really fought with me ;-; I'm very happy to have completed this, however, and hope you all enjoyed the Char/Duncan pairing as much as I had <3 Thank you so much to everyone who has read, kudos, or taken the time to let me know that you liked this, you have no idea what your support & comments meant to me!
> 
> Up next? Maybe the continuation of that CEO Hannibal fic, Royal Hannigram AU, Nigel/Char, or even an alpha!Bev with omega!Will fic, who knows. I'll probably roll a dice or something later lol, but I hope you'll enjoy the ride regardless of which!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] a pact in blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29811702) by [metencephalon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metencephalon/pseuds/metencephalon)




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